Outcast
by Wintertrain
Summary: *Sequel to Cannons* Scarlett won the 70th Hunger Games, and now it's her turn to mentor the next two tributes for District Three. With help from Beetee and Wiress pairied with a girl that resembles her friend, Nimiane, will she be able to take it?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, before you read on, make sure that you read my story, **_**Cannons**_**, first, or you will not understand anything I'm saying. Get it? Got it? Good.**

**Scarlett's POV**

I feel like a juvenile delinquent.

Ever since I've come back from arena, have I heard any congratulations? No. What about appreciation for all I've done? Nope. Did anyone openly admit that they cried while I was gone? Again, no.

I've practically been rejected by society. At least in every other district, everyone celebrates your return and treats you like a hero. Correction – a _god_.

But the 70th Hunger Games apparently are the exception to that unspoken agreement among the citizens. Everyone stares daggers at me, thinking me to be an animal. Well, go reconsider your thoughts, everyone, because I only killed two people. Two _freaking_ people.

Even my family won't talk to me. My five older brothers won't look me in the eye, and my parents don't invite me over to visit anymore. I'm living on my own in the Victor's Village, along with the sparse amount of victors from District Three, who are treated considerably better than I.

Just imagine how the past year has been for me, and multiply that misery by a hundred. You'd have a pretty good idea of how I've been feeling even since I've had to travel all around Panem, watching all my fellow tributes being buried.

Pleasant, am I right?

Today is certainly no exception. It's only one day before the reaping, one day before the anniversary of when I was picked to fight to the death. Am I looking forward to it?

Of course I'm not.

I sit up in bed, wallowing in my thoughts of how this day was a year ago, when I was seventeen and not hated by everyone in the district. I pull my knees to my chest, the pale blue comforter coming with them. I hook my arms together, using them to keep my legs up, and let out an irritated scream. Just like every morning for nearly a year.

I get up, gently placing my feet on the plush carpet and walking out the door, down the hall, and gliding down the stairs. When I reach the kitchen, I sit at the table ungracefully. I stare at the wall, hoping that I have enough food so I won't have to venture out into the open, where my self-esteem always takes a huge blow. When I get up to go check, a knock comes from the nearby door that leads outside. I shuffle over, not caring if I'm in my pajamas or if my eyes have bags under them. I slowly open the door so whoever is outside can only see my face. Not my pajamas, not my lime green hair. Just my face.

Outside is a man who has dark black hair and ashen skin, who is fidgeting with his large, round glasses. Next to him is a woman looking much like him, staring off into space like she's calculating something.

The woman I recognize. She was my mentor last year, Wiress. The man, not so much. He looks to be older than her, so I guess that he was her mentor when she was thrown into the arena.

"Hi, Scarlett," Wiress says, smiling a little. I try to smile, since this is the first time in months that anyone has even tried to be nice to me. The man holds out his hand for a handshake. "This is Beetee," Wiress says. "He was my mentor back in the day."

"Nice to meet you," I say, trying to be courteous. In reality, though, I'm probably in a worse mood than anyone else in Panem. I can just feel my nastiness growing.

"So, what are you two doing here?" I awkwardly ask, looking at the pair.

Beetee gives me a toothy grin. "What, you thought that you were going to the Capitol this year without any guidance?"

oOo

**Drew's POV **

Waking up on reaping day is certainly not the greatest thing in the world, even when you live in the wealthy portion of District Three.

It's always the same. Everyone gets all paranoid about it being them going into the Games, and how they might not ever come home from the reaping, blah blah blah. A bunch of bologna, if you ask me.

My friends are the type of people who assume the worst. Because both of my best friends come from the poor part of the district, they have to apply for tesserae, putting their names in multiple times for survival. They have the right to be paranoid. But these snobby rich neighbors I am forced to go to school with every day? Nope. They have no reason to worry about being reaped.

I literally fall out of bed when I wake up, hitting the upstairs floor with my rear, hard. _Very_ hard. My mom rushes over from her bedroom, an apron on and her hair pulled into a messy bun, a worried look on her face. "Drew, honey, are you okay?" she asks.

"Fine," I grumble, rubbing my bottom when I stand up. I shoo her away, since I hate people watching me change and I love, _love_, _loooooove_ privacy. Of course my older sister _has_ to be the exception, since she always manages to stop my door from closing, like now.

"Drew," Olivia says, poking her head through my door. "Do you have that brown dress off hand, or are you wearing it?"

"I'm wearing it, Ollie," I tell her. "Don't you have a green one that you can wear?"

"It doesn't match my skin tone," she says, just to irk me. "Actually, it doesn't fit anymore. You can have it if you want?"

"You're smaller than I am, Ollie. How would it even fit without the seams bursting?"

Ollie is definitely smaller than I am. She may be nineteen and three years older than me, but she's the tiniest person in her class. She's also the most beautiful, though. She has short, brown hair that touches her shoulders on days when it decides to be flatter. Her eyes are a bright blue, like mine, with silver flecks in them. Her skin is somewhat tan due to her work as a weapon's saleswoman, so she gets to travel all over Panem and visit the sunniest of places to the greyest of places. Her main client is the Capitol, though, who stock up for Peacekeepers and such. You can tell that she's been affected by the Capitol, too, because she's started caring more about her looks and how "proper" she is.

Sometimes she can be as freaky as those Capitol freaks.

"Well, you might want to get ready now," Ollie says, "because we leave in an hour, Drew."

I nod and finally, _finally_ close the door.

Privacy is amazing, let me tell you. I'm dressed and ready to go in five minutes, at the most. I bound down the stairs, eat whatever Mom made earlier while I was sleeping, and tell Mom and Ollie that I'm leaving early to go meet my friends.

Teagan and Calder are both wearing their "fancy" – meaning casual in Mom and Ollie's standards – clothing, waiting for me by the edge of the pack of teenagers, waiting to be reaped. We exchange a few casual greetings and go to our designated sections, where Teagan and I stand together with the other sixteen-year-old girls, and Calder stands only a few feet away with all the rowdy boys.

A few minutes later, the mayor and the escort for this year, who no one knows about nor cares for, step onto the stage, and within a few seconds the crowd goes silent. Oddly enough, the mentor for this year, Scarlett Chadsworth, isn't here yet. The mayor goes through his usual drawl of history and boring stuff, regardless, that no one actually listens to anyway. The escort, however, looks absolutely fascinated.

She's _obviously_ new.

When he's done, the escort bounces up to the two glass bowls, filled with slips of paper that have each child from the ages twelve to eighteen's name on them. She puts her manicured finger into the bowl with the girl's names, and pulls out a pure white strip of paper, and reads the print.

Through her heavy Capitol accent, I make out, "Drew Russell." My name.

Oh, well, that's a cool way to start off reaping day.

**Yeah, so, I'm trying to do multiply point of views now… this might be harder than I thought! Oh well. I'll make it work somehow with my magical idea-making-abilities that I **_**totally**_** have – that's a joke. Ha. Ha. Why aren't you laughing?**

**Hopefully I'll have chapter 2 up for you all soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Scarlett's POV**

Wiress and Beetee took me straight to the train that would be taking me and two tributes to the Capitol this. And, no, I didn't get to change out of my pajamas.

"Aren't we going to the reaping?" I ask, confused when we pass right by Town Square, not even looking at the Mayor that is onstage.

"It's not required that the mentor comes to the reaping, just suggested," Beetee says, shrugging off the question. "It's not a big deal for first-time mentors to not go."

"I certainly didn't," Wiress says, momentarily stopping to take in our surroundings. "Train's that way."

"Wouldn't it be faster to go this way?" I say, pointing to the road in front of us, completely empty, that leads straight to the station.

"Not if you take into account the citizens who are late to the reaping," she says. "It's more populated there, so there'd most likely be more people rushing over to Town Square. We would be slowed down because we would have to dodge them, so going that way would be easier."

"And if we don't make it in time, it's more likely that Wiress's way will still be shorter due to the lack of population," Beetee says, agreeing.

That just went in one ear and out the other.

"Whatever… we'll just go your way, then," I say, not wanting for them to elaborate further.

We make it to the train station with little time to spare before shoving off, but we manage to get on without getting a glare from the guy who is manning my train car's door.

The train is the same as last year: same drab carpet, same grey walls, same broken door in the corner of the car. Wiress gestures to the metal door next to her, saying, "We'll be a few cars away, so if you need us, come over."

I nod. "Okay."

They both exit out the same door, leaving me in the large silence of the car. I sigh and plop down on the familiar couch, searching the cushion for the hole I put in it last year. It's right next to the seam, where I remember.

I remember when Adan, my district partner, and I sat here, looking over all the other reapings. They all looked so much stronger and smarter than me, and I really thought that I didn't have a change. Especially Finnick Odair's little sister, Nimiane. Adan and I were eating some high-end Capitol food during this, and I was cutting some lamb with a knife. When Nimiane Odair was announced, Adan stopped chewing for a second, and I threw the knife down into the cushion out of surprise. It left a hole in the cushion that we never talked of again.

The sounds of the car door opening fills my ears, and I figure that it's either Wiress, Beetee, or the tributes. I try to examine who they are by looking at the window in front of me, nonchalantly saying, "Hey there."

"Hi, Scar," an elderly, feminine voice weakly says. I turn to see my mother, father, and my five brothers, all standing in a line in front of me. "We came to check in."

"Now?" I ask. "Right before I leave?"

"We wanted to wish you and your tributes good luck this year," my oldest brother, Marco, says. He sits beside me on the couch, looking around. "This isn't so bad," he comments.

"Compared to my house, it's a wreck," I mumble. Mom sits on the arm of the couch and the rest of the family gathers around by the front of the couch. "Oh, that's right. We haven't seen your house yet!" Mom says, like we've seen each other every day.

_Yeah, what a great effort you've made to see me at all_.

"It's nice," I say, not really wanting to talk about it. "How's work for you guys?"

All my brothers work at an electronics factory. Marco is into design, as well as the third brother, Randall. The three others, Edward, Kirk, and Will, are all into manufacturing and deliveries on good days.

"It's been fine," Randall says, looking down at his feet. "The Capitol bought a lot of electronic gizmos recently, and one can only jump to the conclusion that it's-"

"-for the Games," I finish.

"If it's this close to the Games, then it wouldn't be a far-fetched assumption," Kirk says.

I wonder if the mentors get to know what the arena is like before the Games start. But the mentors would probably tell the tributes, and that would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.

The Capitol does like their surprises.

oOo

**Drew's POV**

All throughout the rest of the program, I stand, staring at the crowd. I don't comprehend whoever the male tribute is, I don't comprehend the cries from the audience, and I don't comprehend the sad faces. I just stand, still as a statue until the male tribute and I have to shake hands.

I look up at his face for the first time, not recognizing him. He has wind-blown black hair and brown eyes that are framed by square glasses. His smile is somewhat cocky, like he knows something that you don't. He's taller than me, probably about six-foot, and he has muscles, but not ones that bulge so much that you can see them through his shirt. He looks overall like a nice person.

But that's just his looks that I'm judging by.

When we go inside Town Hall and are allowed visitors, the whole family visits first. There are several cries of how much I'm going to be missed and how I need to try my hardest, but I don't really listen. The Peacekeepers practically have to pry Ollie off of me before she would willingly leave. It was pretty scary for someone who loves personal space and would rather strangle someone than receive a hug.

When Teagan and Calder come in, Teagan screams, "Now who the hell am I going to eat lunch with?" Calder laughs, trying to cover up his sadness.

"I'd be more worried about if we have two victors in two years," Calder says, nudging Teagan to get her to stop her ranting about small things. I laugh a little bit, rolling my eyes at their way to getting me to snap out of the trance I've been in for the past few minutes.

I motion for them to sit next to me on a plush couch, and after they do, I ask, "Who was my district partner? I didn't hear his name."

"I think it was Owen Polk," Teagan says, looking up to her brain as if consulting it.

"Yeah, that was it," Calder confirms. "Owen Polk."

I nod. "Sound familiar to any of you?"

They shake their heads. Calder says, "Well, he's a year older than us, so I wouldn't expect us to know him."

"Okay, that's cool. I'll be stuck with an upperclassman and a girl with green hair for a while."

"Don't fret," Teagan says. "I'm sure you'll make it out. You're practically fighting for the chance to be yourself every day! How much harder can fighting for your life be?"

That's true. My parents hate my lifestyle. I try to blend in, meaning I hang out with poor kids, I wear clothes that everyone else at school wears, and I always get my hands dirty because I want to. Of course, my family sees this as an act of rebellion against them, and we're always fighting about it. Some days they don't even let me leave the house until I do what they want, which is never.

Teagan and Calder are called out of the room after some more small talk, and I think on how the Capitol will be.

Maybe there people will understand me.

But probably not.

**My gosh, this took me forever (in my standards)! And I was like "Where do I end this oh mah gosh", so, I'm not necessarily pleased with it. But it probably matters what you think more, so… Yeah.**

**And tomorrow is exactly one month until the movie comes out! *fangirl squeal***


	3. Chapter 3

**Scarlett's POV**

After my family finally left me alone, since the train was going to leave in "twenty seconds" as exaggerated by the man standing by my train car's door in an attempt to save me from my bitterness – let's be honest, I've gotten really nasty in the past few months – I got to meet the two tributes for this year.

The girl, Drew Russell, has black hair that cascades over her shoulders in luxurious curls. Her eyes are a bright, piercing blue that you just want to stare at forever because they're so unique. Her skin is not tan, but not pale at the same time. Her figure is slim, and you can tell by her long legs that she can run if she really wants to.

The boy is Owen Polk, who I somewhat recognize, from my old neighborhood in town. He has the same color hair as Drew, but warm, brown eyes, like brownies. _Good_ brownies. He has on glasses like Beetee's, only they're square and they actually fit. He's tall, almost so tall that he has to duck to get into the train car.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think the two are related.

"I'm Scarlett," I say, standing up from my couch to shake their hands. "I know," they say in unison.

"I have no idea what to do with you guys now," I admit. "It's my first time as mentor, and I have Wiress and Beetee here to help, but I really don't want to go outside in my pajamas anymore."

Owen's face lights up. "Wiress and Beetee are here?" he asks, excitedly.

I give a small nod. "Uh, yeah, they are."

"I've always wanted to meet them!" he exclaims, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation. "They're geniuses! I've looked up to them since I was, what? Maybe five years old?"

"I'm sure you'll get to meet them before the Games start," I say. "So, I guess you guys go to your cars or something? I don't really know what to tell you right about now."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Drew says. She goes to one of the doors that leads to other cars, gives a small wave, and leaves. Owen does the same, going the opposite way.

Well, we have a kid that is either a genius or a wannabe genius, and a reassured, in-the-know girl.

Not bad for District Three.

oOo

**Drew's POV**

You'd think that victors would look really good because of their wealth, right?

Wrong.

Scarlett looks about as fragile as a piece of glass. She's thin, and she seems to have defined muscles that haven't seemed to wear off since her training last year. To top that all off, she's wearing possible the fuzziest pajama pants I've seen and a spaghetti-strap shirt that's bottom keeps coming up as she moves.

Plus, her hair is lime-freaking-green.

I kind of admire her for her looks alone.

When Owen and I go our separate ways, I find my own train car that is just like a normal bedroom, only fancier. The walls are a blood red and the bed is huge. The covers are a pale blue and the drapes are the same. I plop down on the bed, not hesitant to make myself at home for the time being. District Three has a longer train ride than pretty much every other district due to our great distance from the Capitol, so they actually bother to give us bedrooms on our train. _This is like Mom's room, only mobile_, I think.

I try to sleep, which usually washes my worries away, but I can't seem to clear my mind for long enough to go into dream land. _Will this be the last time I'll ever see District 3? How will my family hold up while I'm gone? Heck, will Teagan and Calder feel like crap while I'm gone?_

So many questions, so little time.

I sit in bed all night, thinking. I stare at the scenery out my window, not even gawking when the Capitol comes into sight. I've seen so many of Ollie's pictures, it's almost like a second home to me.

When there is a knock at my car door, I don't get up, hoping they'll go away. I'm tired and scared and cranky. _ Go away_, I hope. _Please, please, please._

But, of course, they open the door without waiting for me to get up and come in anyway.

"Drew?" Scarlett asks, still wearing the same pajamas from yesterday. "You up?"

"I never went to bed," I complain, rolling over onto my stomach.

She laughs. "I didn't either, last year. This room was too pretty to let slip away, even if it is for a few hours."

I nod, understanding what she means. Last year, after the Games, they aired a sort of document on each of the tributes. They wove Nimiane Odair into every spot that they could. When they got to Scarlett's portion of the program, they mentioned her low-class lifestyle, and her dwindling food and funds due to five older brothers. Plus, she still went to school for a bit after the Games, and she was practically failing because of her absences, so she took up a lot of time studying instead of helping her family by working. She never really had anything nice in her life.

"We'll be at the station in an hour or so. Train traffic is bad right now," she says, motioning to the window next to her, which showed several trains coming from all other directions, clogging the streets of the Capitol.

"Okay," I say, staring at the trains.

Scarlett starts to leave, but then I ask, "How has your life been since you won the Games?"

She looks a little surprised, but comes back into the room and sits down next to me. "Well, everyone hates me."

"They do?"

She nods. "They look at me like I'm an animal. My family has only talked to me once since I've won. They haven't even bothered to visit me."

I wince a little at the mention of family, since we're at the place where my family would rather be than District Three. "Did they accept you before? Like, your lifestyle and stuff?"

"Oh, yeah! They were totally supportive of how I lived. In fact, my whole style is my dad's fault," she says, pointing to the mess of lime green hair on her head. "He had me test some medicine for him, and this was the result."

"Well, maybe if I come back, then mine would actually be proud of me," I humph.

"They don't?" she asks, looking at me with concern.

"Nope. They treat me like an outcast." I roll over onto my back. "Drew Russell: Outcast," I say, making a flamboyant hand gesture to go along with it.

Scarlett laughs. She looks out the window and gets up. "I guess we were closer than I thought, because we're here," she says, leaving the room.

**Sorry I haven't posted in a while! [Insert lame excuse here]**

**I've finally written stuff! I've been trying to write for my other story, **_**Strange Things**_** (you know, go read it), but I haven't been able to think of anything. Imagine a blank canvas. And that will be our symbolism for my mind lately, okay?**

**Okay, now I'm going to go stuff my face with cupcakes to congratulate myself!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Drew's POV**

Let's just say, the Capitol doesn't really surprise me.

Not only have I seen numerous pictures of the skyscrapers and beautifully painted buildings, I have also lived in a house that is modeled after the Capitol's most common homes. I consider it more like a second home than a strange place, since I practically live in it.

Plus, I have Ollie and Mom, who always dress in the latest trends from the Capitol. They visit as often as possible, which still isn't enough for them.

Now, I usually opt out of these mother-daughter-rendezvous type things, because staying home alone is more my style. Plus, I like the empowerment. At least half of the year, I'm stuck at home, happily watching over the house and doing whatever I want. I wear what I want, eat what I want, and cry when I want. Which is a lot.

Now, why do I cry?

My dad.

He left us to go take up a Capitol lifestyle, giving up his job and his family so he can start anew. I totally get it, though. It's a once in a lifetime chance to move to the Capitol, seeing as the President wants to keep us in our place. But if he offers for you to move to somewhere where you're much better off, you go. No questions asked.

Why they only offered to Dad and not Mom or Ollie or me, I don't know. It's always been a mystery as to why he was asked to go, but I haven't bothered to ask. Call me lazy, call me a coward.

But, _anyways_.

Scarlett helped Owen and I find out rooms in this crazy skyscraper that must have more than fifty floors. We're on the twenty-eighth floor, close enough to see the beautiful gardens surrounding the building, but far enough away to think that the Capitol is populated by ants.

I unlock the door to my room at the same time as Owen. We both look at each other, holding the door knob and silently communicating to one another. I give him a little nod, and he does the same. Then, we both quickly fling open the door to our respective rooms, taking a good look at them at the same time.

I step inside, closing the door behind me and strolling around aimlessly. The walls are olive green, and the bed sheet is an ivory color. The floor is carpeted and plush, like you're walking on clouds every time that you take a step.

This makes my house look like a knock off of the real deal.

I sit on the bed, taking in each and every inch of the room. I try to notice imperfections, which is practically impossible.

_At least I get to l stay in paradise before I die_, I quietly think to myself.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

You want to know how to describe my day?

Lonely.

Guilty.

Heartless.

That's all how I feel. I've seen so many people that I saw just last year, and it reminds me of the crap I've done and how much it probably has affected them.

_Maybe I've made them cry._

_ Maybe I've killed someone they know and care about._

_ Or maybe they just hate me_.

It's probably the last one.

I meet up with Wiress and Beetee right outside of this meeting room that the mentors are using this year. "Okay," Beetee says, not even bothering to greet me or ask how my ride here was. "You go in there, you talk to other mentors. It's essentially a party for the misfortunate, got it?"

I nod. The word party makes me look down at my new outfit, which I changed in my room just a few minutes ago. A black fitted shirt paired with long, white, jean-like pants. I don't know if this "party" will be all elegant and such, but I suspect I'll be spared from judgment because this is, in fact, my first time as a mentor.

"Go get 'em," Wiress says, flashing a toothy grin while Beetee opens the door for me.

The room is filled with people of assorted ages, shapes, and sizes. We all seem to be sitting by District, seeing as a very District Two-esque woman is sitting next to an empty seat. On the other side is Finnick, chatting it up with the ever-so-famous Haymitch Abernathy. I sit in the open spot, a little awkward due to myself only knowing Finnick.

He turns his head when I sit, giving me a nice smile despite that I won the Games that his sister was in. "How are you?" he asks, still smiling at my presence.

"Oh, fine," I mumble, feeling quite the opposite.

"You certainly don't look fine," he remarks, taking in my unhappiness.

I shrug. "Just nervous, I guess."

He nods. "I remember my first time as mentor. Unlike you, I didn't have two coaches to get me through most of the things that we need to do every year."

"Well, Wiress and Beetee are cool," I absently say, trying not to make eye contact. I keep my head down, careful not to look at anyone, for that matter. Who knows how they'll treat me?

"Plus, Nim and Dad were always kind of weird around me for the first few months after I got home, but after that it was all good," he continues, disregarding my comment. I roll my eyes and chuckle due to the exact opposite happening to me.

"My family won't even look me in the eyes," I say. "And there are seven of them, not counting me. They'd probably disown me if they could afford to do so."

"Dad and I are so close, it's kind of scary," he says. "And now I practically have Nim's old best friend, Ingrid, living with us. Not that she wasn't before or anything," he adds.

"I've always wanted a sister," I say softly. "My parents couldn't have kids after me because they were getting poorer and poorer by the year. I'm the only girl in the family."

"Sisters can be annoying sometimes," he says. "Nim really made me angry when she was reaped, only because she wouldn't let me convince someone to volunteer for her. I was kind of trying to be the mother she never had, you know?"

I nod. "I could see why."

"She was really persistent, though. She wanted to do things all on her own, like she was a grown up. I don't want her to grow up." I notice that he doesn't mention that she _can't_ grow up anymore.

He gets a little quiet after that, and I realize that he's still thinking about Nimiane.

I'm sure that he's thinking his ever-so-famous phrase, "Three Odairs is just not fair."

**I wrote this somewhat fast, but you see what I did at the end? You see what I did there? xD**

**Yeah, so, I have a big writing test tomorrow, so hopefully the prompt will provoke as many ideas as FanFiction, or else I'll be sad! I'll probably lose all my willing-ness to write.**

**Loljk. You can't stop the fire. It's always been burning since the world's been turning. (and don't criticize my Billy Joel reference, even if it partially is incorrect)**

**And, for your information, I've been recently seeing a spur in readers for _Cannons_, so, yay!**

**Thanks for reading! (and putting up with my oldies references…)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Drew's POV**

Only a few minutes after I am allowed into my room, I'm forced into the bathroom with a way overly-peppy prep team to, well, prep for the opening ceremonies. You know, that parade around the Capitol?

"Shower," one of them says after one glance at me. "Now!"

"Okay, I'm going," I say, exasperated a bit. "No need to yell!"

I stand in front of the shower door patiently. "What are you waiting for?" the one guy of the group, whose name I don't know, asks.

"I'm waiting for you to…leave?" I say, shooing them out.

"Nonsense," he says. "We have things to do. We won't look, we promise."

"I like privacy," I say with a warning tone. "And I wouldn't want to make me mad."

"Just go," another practically begs. "We have important things to do!"

"_Out_!" I shout, making them all flinch. "I want some freaking privacy!" They all reluctantly leave the bathroom, and I let out a sigh of relief.

About a half hour later, I'm sitting on the marble counter in a blue fuzzy bathrobe with the Capitol's symbol embroidered on the left side. The woman who told me to take a shower, Rayne, is currently plucking my eyebrows – they were "unnaturally unfeminine", apparently – and the guy, Ernest, is frantically running around the room, putting garment bags on racks and just tidying up in general. The last woman, Maryellen, is putting the mounds of makeup she had brought in inside of a tiny bag on the counter, organized by color. _Whoever the designer is must be a neat freak_, I think.

"Okay, so, we've cleaned up the arms, legs, and face. Are you _sure_ we didn't miss anything?" Rayne asks, nervously fidgeting with my hair.

"I'm _sure_, Rayne," Ernest says, agitated. "I've done this for years. I think I know what I'm doing!"

"That goes for me, as well," Maryellen says with her thick Capitol accent making everything sound fuzzy.

A knock comes from the other side of the door a few minutes later, and the trio begins to freak out. "Come in," Maryellen tires to say, but I end up finishing her phrase for her due to her nervous anxiety.

The woman who steps in screams intimidation. She has jet black hair and her eyes are rimmed with black eyeliner and mascara, all surrounded by a rainbow of colors. She has on a pure white sun-dress with the same color of high heels. Although her outfit says, _I'm nice and fun_, her face says otherwise.

"My name is Gertrude," she says in a nice tone. My prep team shakes with fear in her presence, and she leans in to whisper, "What a bunch of cowards. Is it because I smell?"

I laugh. "I'm sure it's not that, Gertrude."

"Oh, thank heavens!" she over exaggerates. "I think I would rather die than to smell bad!"

The prep team doesn't pick up on the joke and continues their worrying. Gertrude eventually shoos them out of the room after sizing me up. "Help these days," she says sarcastically.

"Oh, I know," I say. "Life is so, _so_ hard."

"At least you have a sense of humor. A few years ago, maybe five or so, the girl tribute had absolutely no emotions. Thankfully, you do, as well as Scarlett."

I nod. "Scarlett's cool," I absently say. "So, what do you have for me?"

She strides over to a garment bag that hangs next to the door, her heels making loud clicking noises as they rise and fall. She unzips the bag, taking a peek inside to confirm that it's the one she wants. She then carries it over to me. "Take a look yourself."

The first thing that catches my eye is the silver plating all over the outfit. Essentially, the whole thing is a women's version of a gladiator's general uniform. The silver plating takes up most of the short dress, a little bit of an under-dress peeking through. The under-dress looks as if it's made completely out of wires that you would find in everyday electronics. A cape is attached to the back of the whole thing, also looking as if made of wires. A silver gladiator helmet and a pair of matching does top off the whole look.

"Are we going for the fighting-robot sort of look this year?" I ask, glancing over the outfit once more.

"We are," Gertrude says. "Try it on. We need to figure out how we are doing your makeup before you go to dinner, don't we?"

I do as she says and it fits unnaturally perfectly. I haven't been measured in years, yet they know my exact dimensions.

Kind of creepy if you ask me.

Gertrude experiments with different shades of makeup directly on my face before she commands that I change back into street clothes and go eat some wholesome food, because I'll definitely regret it when I'm parading around the Capitol.

I head downstairs, by means of a way-too-powerful elevator that knocks me off my feet but does no damage. When I enter the dining hall, I see Owen sitting alone with two seats on each side of him empty. I see one with my name on it, so I sit there, to his right. "How's prep?" I ask.

"Oh, God," he says. "I didn't even know guys shaved their armpits!"

"Because they generally don't," I point out. "It's a different world, the Capitol. They're nothing like us here. They have accents, different trends, and they're probably the strangest people on the planet. But their food is kick-ass, so I'm not complaining."

Owen rolls his eyes and laughs. "Everyone else here is probably thinking like me right about now. Why are you so tolerant of this crap they're putting us through?"

"Mom and Ollie both constantly come to the Capitol, bringing back the strangest things to eat and wear. Dad was given an offer to live here and took it up, leaving us behind. The Capitol is old news to me."

"Grew up without a dad?" he asks. "That's rough. We may be poor, but we're still intact, I'll tell you."

"Siblings?" I ask.

"Only child," he confirms.

"Not as bad as I thought it would be. At least you're not like Scarlett and have five older siblings."

"Yeah, that's true," he says.

Some avoxes come into the room, balancing several plates on their arms with no ease whatsoever. One man accidently drops one plate behind me, and I look over in shock to see what happened. The man scurries to pick up what fell to prevent further problems, and I look at him. I've never actually seen an avox before, so they seem somewhat fascinating to me right about now.

He looks up and makes momentary eye contact, stopping what he is doing just to stare at me. I stare too, slight recognition triggering into my brain until a name fits with a face and I know who the hell this guy is.

This is Tacitus Russell, my father.

My father is an avox.

**Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?**

**Yeah, so, I've finally finished this chapter (go writer's block!), somehow. I was like debating what her opening ceremony outfit should be and it took a while to add onto that. (You may think it was only a few days, but it was much longer to me…)**

**And, sorry there's no Scarlett this chapter – I felt it was more important that Drew has the spotlight for now. I'll get her back in soon, I promise!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

I push out my chair, and walk straight out of the room. I avoid the questioning glances from my fellow tributes and make my way to my room, emotionless. Nothing runs through my mind as I go up in the elevator and almost fall over. Nothing runs through my mind when someone trips and falls flat on their face in the hallway to my room.

I just feel empty.

I get inside my room, and Gertrude is still there, so she peeks her head out of the bathroom door to see me sitting on my bed, staring at the wall.

"I thought I told you to get food, not to go down there and come right back," she says, sitting next to me.

"I have no appetite now," I bluntly say.

"Why not?"

I sigh. "I've grown up without a dad for most of my life. He was offered a chance to live in the Capitol, so he took it and left District Three behind. At least, that's what I was told."

"And…?"

"I was sitting at dinner and some avoxes came out with food, and one of them dropped his tray behind my chair. I looked at him and it was my dad." I let out a heavy sigh. "My dad is a freaking avox."

Gertrude makes a noise of sympathy and gives me a hug, to which I just sit as stiff as a board.

"I'll go get you some good, darling," she says. "Don't move. You need to eat, and I'm sure you're not going back down there."

I shake my head. "You really don't have to."

"I want to."

I don't argue with her, so she leaves the room to go scavenge for some food for me. I stare at the wall, comprehending what just happened.

I guess a big thing that I've spent most of my time thinking about was a lie.

Thanks for telling me, family.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

When the city started to get dark, the tributes staggered into the hangar where the chariots were placed in order my district.

_Everything_ is in order by district.

I find this year's chariot for District Three, a simple silver chariot held up by two pure black horses. Owen comes to me first, wearing silver gladiator armor with a cape that looks to be made completely of wire.

"I feel like an idiot," he says upon arrival.

"Join the party," I say. "First time mentoring makes you feel like you're an idiot, too."

"Because everyone else has more experience?"

"No," I laugh. "Because I have Wiress and Beetee critiquing everything I do."

It's true, you know. Everything has to be done a specific way with them, like the fate of the world depends on it. Of course, it actually doesn't.

The fate of my _tributes_ depends on it.

"At least your outfit is cooler than last year. Looks like Gertrude and Pert had a brainstorm while I was gone."

He nods. "Pert was so bossy, but a great designer, I'll tell you. I'm barely wearing any makeup right now, due to this new type he patented recently. It does all the jobs of all other combinations of makeup in one bottle, somehow. It's all the rage here, apparently."

"Sounds like something he would make it out to be," I say.

Drew comes along soon after, wearing a nearly identical outfit. I try to ignore the stares of the other tributes and designers, who must be smacking themselves in the head for not thinking of it themselves.

I leave Drew and Owen to themselves so I can go stake out the buffet table, hungrier than ever because we had practically no food at the meeting the mentor's had earlier today. I see some raspberry tarts with a leafy-substance on them, and I immediately take some and place it on a plate.

"Scarlett!" someone calls out from _waaaaay_ down the long buffet table.

I look and see Finnick walking towards me, greeting other people on the way. "Sugar cube?" he asks.

Laughing, I say, "Sure."

He happily hands me one and he holds his own up, as if he's making a toast. "Here's to the 71st Hunger Games!" he jokingly says. I laugh and clank cubes with him, then devour it in a second.

The sweet taste fills me with a sugary rush of excitement. "How are your tributes this year?" I ask.

"The girl is a career type and the boy won't make it past the bloodbath," he says, reaching for the tarts I opted for just a minute ago. He takes a bite. "Yours?"

"The guy is a Wiress and Beetee fanboy and the girl is kind of like Nim-" I start before stopping myself.

"It's okay if you talk about her," he says, shrugging. "I've seen many die. It's like she's just another brick in the wall of District Four Hunger Games' deaths."

"You're not upset about her anymore?" I ask.

"You have to accept it someday. I did the day we buried her," he says.

"Have you visited her grave?"

"Of course I have. Any day I could, I would be there."

I'm silent for a moment. "I'd like to visit her sometime."

He smiles a little. "I'm sure she would like it. How about after the Games?"

I smile too. "You're on," I say, holding out my hand as if it's a challenge that I had just accepted instead of visiting a friend's grave.

Finnick shakes it, laughing. "Looks like things are about to start," he says, looking back at his tributes who are struggling to stand up on the sea-green chariot. "I'll talk to you later!"

"Okay," I say. "Later!"

I go back to Owen and Drew, plate of tarts in hand. "Hey, guys," I greet.

"Hi," Drew says. "You have no idea how comfortable this outfit is, Scarlett. I could sleep in this, right here, right now!"

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Okay, so, serious time. I want you to look straight ahead, and try to look triumphant for me, okay?"

Owen opens his mouth. "But Gertrude and Pert said-"

"Forget what they said. All that matters is what _I_ say," I interrupt. I feel a little bit of empowerment over the two, and I like it.

They both nod warily. I walk away to the side of the hangar, next to the large door that is beginning to open for the ceremony.

The cheers of the Capitol freaks are all I can hear, except for the roar of some random announcer welcoming Panem to the 71st Hunger Games. The District One tributes shake a little as their chariot starts of move, but they gain their composure as soon as they're out of the door. The same happens to the District Two tributes.

My team's chariot starts to move, and Owen and Drew both send me a look of terror and nervousness. I smile at them and give them a thumbs up.

"Let the Games begin," I say as both disappear into the sea of citizens.

**I've been listening to the same two Billy Joel songs for the greater part of this chapter, so, thank goodness I didn't go crazy and not finish this.**

**On the downside, though, they'll be stuck in my head all day…**

**And you see what I did there with Finnick? You see my oldies reference?**

**Well, thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Drew's POV**

Throughout the opening ceremonies, all that was going through my head was _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_.

I was sweating like crazy, which made my really comfortable gladiator suit itchy and unpleasant. It seemed like Owen was feeling the say way, as well.

When the thing was over, Scarlett came over to our chariot and congratulated us, saying that most of the population of Panem wouldn't be able to even go through that ceremony with a smile. And, of course, both of us smile.

Being complimented has that affect.

Before I get the chance to leave, which I personally would have rather done due to my outfit, Scarlett drags Finnick freaking Odair over to us, along with his tributes.

"This is Finnick," Scarlett says, "which I'm sure you already know. Finnick, these are my tributes, Drew and Owen."

He holds out his hand for a shake from both of us. "Nice to meet you." He then gestures towards the two standing behind him, both clad in sea-colored formal attire. "This is Wiley and Iris."

We exchange small head nods which Finnick and Scarlett talk about anything and everything. After a bit of that, I get ultimately bored and head towards the buffet tables, everyone else in tow.

Call it short attention span, call it sudden starvation, but I was satisfied with this smart move.

I immediately see a District Three favorite, and one look at Owen reveals that he's seen it too. We rush over to the little, square pieces of bread, placing one after another in our mouths as if we had a bottomless stomach.

Iris and Wiley give us a weird look, which I can understand. They're not from District Three, so the bread seems like nothing. They don't know that our taste buds are practically built to love the salty flavor that comes packaged in each square.

Iris takes some food off of the plate next to the bread, and says, "Looks like our mentors are buddies."

I nod. "Obviously. It's not like they don't have a good reason, though."

"That's true," she says, shrugging. "His sister _was_ her friend, after all…"

"Did you know his sister?" I ask, placing another square of bread in my mouth.

"Did I know her? Yeah. Was I ever friends with her? No."

That makes sense. I mean, there are thousands of people in District Four, like all other districts. I guess you don't know every face you see.

"Did you go to her funeral?" I follow up, although I already knew the answer.

She gets a little apprehensive when answering. "Of course. Every soul in every District went to their respective tributes' burial. I'm sure you went to your guy's funeral."

"I did."

"So did I!" Owen says between bites of bread.

Wiley now speaks up. "There seemed to be some sort of feeling of sorrow among the districts last year, all because of the Hunger Games. If it was like that every year, the Games would have ended long ago and we would be at home, lazing as if nothing matters."

I nod. "Then I wish it was like that every year. We would have overcome the Capitol by now."

"We could always start that this year," Owen says. "We can take down the Capitol if we put the minds of every person in every district to it."

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

The first day of training is always hectic. But I'm saying it from the perspective of a former tribute/new mentor.

Let me tell you, being a mentor is twenty times worse.

You have to go around and meet people, you have to go have meetings with other mentors, you have to work out things with sponsors, and the list goes on and on. But that's just the stuff I'm doing without Wiress and Beetee's help.

Let's just say that I haven't seen them in the past twelve hours, and it's freaking me out. How the heck am I supposed to know what to do if they don't tell me? It's not like I'm getting reminders from Capitol slaves that I have to go downstairs every two seconds for yet another gathering!

When I get to my fifth meeting of the day, fresh out of a meeting with potential sponsors, I collapse into a chair and repeatedly bang my head on the hard table in front of me.

"Oh, I know, right?" a random mentor says when walking by.

"That's me every year," another adds.

After a few more seconds of that, I lift up my head and see everyone looking at me with understanding. Finnick sits down next to me, patting my back.

"I know that feeling," he says, getting comfortable in his chair. "It'll never go away, let me tell you."

"Thanks for the reassurance," I mumble, sitting up like everyone else as a Gamemaker comes into the room and sits at the head of the table.

"Let's get down to business," he says, pulling out some papers and passing them around. "These are the rules that your tribute must abide by for the training sessions and the interview. Make sure that you consult them before they get in too deep and become so determined that they won't listen to you, okay?"

Nods travel around the table before the mentor for District Eight, I believe, speaks up. "And if they don't follow the rules…?"

The Gamemaker gives a wicked grin. "Well, why don't we find out?" The mentor doesn't speak for the rest of the meeting.

After going over the rules for tributes, the rules for mentors, the rules for sponsoring, and about seven hundred more things in a period of three hours, the whole meeting is finally over and I can actually process what was said at the beginning of the meeting.

"These people are way too fast-paced," I say to Finnick as we gather our papers and walk out of the meeting room.

"That guy is no exception," Finnick starts. "Rumor has it that he has been hopping from girl to girl while still married to the mother of two of his five children. The three others are unconfirmed, but whatever."

"How do you know?"

"A little birdie told me," he says, being all mysterious by not telling me who.

I hate it when people do that.

"Whatever," I say, brushing off the topic. "Do you know who Drew reminds me of?"

He takes a second to process what I'm saying, then replies, "Nimiane?"

I nod. "You bet. I mean, they both have practically the same personality. Plus, you could tell that Drew was somewhat uncomfortable in your presence, like Nim."

"That's true. Nim always hated it when people would talk to both of us and automatically give me more attention. She hated the comparisons, too."

"Exactly," I say. "They're virtually the same!"

"Wiley kind of reminds me of you, too," he says, steering away from the subject of Nimiane for a moment. "He has the huge family, consisting of all sisters. He isn't the richest guy out there, unlike Remington was. Plus, he already knew Iris before we got here."

I nod. "This year is a lot like last year."

"That it is."

**So sorry, my poor children, that I haven't posted lately. It's the tale of a writer of multiple story-writers – or that might just be me.**

**Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out to you soon… But I'm currently sick so I might just wallow in my disease for a bit before actually even brainstorming what I want to write about next chapter. (You better hope I stick with the first part)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Drew's POV**

I pull back on the bow's string, and let go, watching the arrow fly in the air.

And then land on someone else's target.

Whoops.

Training is hectic, I'll tell you. You have a few days to get as many things as possible in and you can't just learn any of these things lightly. You have to know how it works, when to use I, and how to use it. It's a real pain.

Plus, since both District Three and District Four want to leave an impression on Panem, we have to find something that we're really good at.

The problem is that I have no idea what I should try.

I confronted Wiley and Iris on this matter, and they just shrugged it off and continued on with their choice of specialty – spears for Wiley and camouflage for Iris. Which is basically just an excuse to draw all over yourself for a few days.

"I have no idea what to do," I complain to Owen while he spars with a random dummy. "You've got to help me!"

He rolls his eyes mid-kick, and momentarily stops to look at me. "Try hand-combat."

"Why would I ever need that? That's not even a station," I point out.

"So?" he says, putting his hands on his hips. "Do you want to have an advantage over everyone else or not?"

I sigh. "Fine. Show me the ropes."

He moves out of the way so there is nothing between me and the dummy. "Copy my stance," he says. He puts his right foot in front of him, crouches a little, and puts up both fists so that they're right below his face. I do the same.

"Now kick," he says, relaxing again and gesturing to the dummy.

I close my eyes for a second, thrusting my foot at the mannequin with fear. _Please don't break my leg. Pleeeeeeease don't break my leg!_

To my surprise, my kick was forceful enough to make the dummy swing around everywhere and almost hit someone who was walking by. Owen walks over to it and places a hand against it, immediately stopping its motions.

"That was good. Try hitting it, now," Owen says, backing away quickly before I have at it with a fake person.

Within a few minutes I have it all down, and Owen offers to teach me hand-to-hand combat. I agree. _It can't hurt, right_?

Correction: Owen is much better than me at fighting, so it pretty much hurts a lot.

Owen tries out other things for the rest of the day, while I work on fighting some more since it's basically the only thing I have going for me – plus, Owen challenged me to another fight tomorrow so I obviously need to improve.

Looks like I've found something I can stick with.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

"Finnick, seriously, stop," I whisper while holding back laughter. "We're at a freaking meeting. I don't really want to know what happens to naughty mentors."

He chuckles a little while the Gamemaker that we had seen yesterday talks about this year's scale for rating the tributes. "Of course, no one gets higher than a nine, most of the time…" he says, trailing off into some other thought.

Finnick looks between us before his gaze settles on me again. He then makes a _moo_ noise, just like a cow, and the whole table freezes. The Gamemaker stares daggers at the two of us, and I burst out laughing. "Stop it!" I make out between giggles.

"If you two don't want to behave, then I'd suggest you to leave right about now," he says, his heavy Capitol accent making it sound like he still wanted us here. But I'm not stupid, so I stand up, nodding, and drag a laughing hunk of sea-god behind me, attracting the eyes of any passer-by.

"You are such an idiot!" I shout, bursting out with laughter again. "That was the funniest but stupidest thing I've ever seen!"

"At least I'm not a casualty of society," Finnick says. "I like having fun on other people's expenses!"

"Meaning I get kicked out of a meeting while I can still be replaced and no one would get suspicious?"

"Exactly."

I shrug. "Whatever it takes to have a good time, I guess."

It doesn't even bother me whenever he does stuff like this. We're probably about up to the best friend point, and I'm so used to his brainless actions. It should bother me that he got me kicked out of a Capitol joint – I mean, the Capitol is meant to be feared and all – but I'm not even the slightest.

It's really refreshing after the year I've had.

"You know, you should totally come home with me to District Three and replace all of my five brothers. You'd be a better alternative than pure ignorance," I say.

"That's probably true, but you'd probably find me really annoying if I was your brother."

"I think I would like having one annoying brother over have five ignorant ones." I roll my eyes.

"Plus, maybe you'll be like Nim and you'll hate living in my shadow," he says, shrugging. "She never did fully appreciate my dashing good looks and plethora of money…."

"It would be better than the poverty my parents went through recently," I say. "I didn't help them at all because I didn't know anything of it directly from them. Obviously, they didn't want my help."

"Dad just goes with it," Finnick says, "he's been through it twice. I'm sure that he could go through it a few more times."

"My parents are the opposite, then."

"Seems like it."

We stand for a second, contemplating what to do now. We decide that we should part for now, since we haven't had any free time to do whatever we want since yesterday. It's been meeting after meeting after meeting.

And there's still no sight of Wiress and Beetee.

I head up to my room, hoping to catch some Z's before having to come back for lunch with all the mentors. When a few feet from the door, I notice a small slip of paper tied around the door knob. I untie it, reading the print as soon as I'm done.

_Sorry we had to leave on such short notice, but the Gamemakers think that you can handle this job yourself. They sent us back to District Three._

_ Good luck,_

_ Wiress and Beetee_

And, I'm on my own now.

Dandy.

**If you don't listen to as much alternative music as I do, then you probably didn't catch the Sum 41 references I put in there….**

**And, it's that time again! My laziness and my unoriginality have led me to put it upon you all to submit tributes once again. So, basically, no District Three or Four tributes (obviously), but everything else is welcome. I'll try to incorporate them into the story as best as I can, kind of like in **_**Cannons**_**.**

**Thanks for reading! (And, you know, send me characters or else I'll be forced to create them myself, **_**boohoo**_**)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Drew's POV**

I kick the dummy for maybe the thousandth time today, trying to get it to hit Owen, who is standing a foot away, watching me.

"What value does this idea of yours have?" he asks, sighing.

"The value of entertainment," I spit out between heavy breaths. I kick again, not missing a beat – I mean, it has been a few days. The private sessions with the Gamemakers is tomorrow.

Basically, Iris, Wiley, Owen and I have stuck together during the training process. We've become friends and all, but we're not so open that we can't dispatch in the arena and kill each other in a second. We'd just prefer not to.

I decide to rest my leg and hit the dummy for a while. It starts moving backwards because of my eminent force and Owen has to come over and stop it from going any further. "You get entertainment from hitting me?"

"I get entertainment from hitting anyone," I laugh, stopping for a moment. "Spar?"

He smiles. "And beat you again?" He then makes it look like he's in deep thought. "Well, since you're such a good sport!"

I laugh and help him pull a few cushioned mats together – just in case one of us falls. Most people notice that we're getting ready to fight _once again_ – we've been doing a lot of that over the past few days – and stop what they're doing to watch us. We've become a real source of entertainment for the tributes recently.

Owen and I take our stances at the end of the mats. "Come at me!" I say, egging him on.

He gets this mischievous look on his face, and I immediately regret choosing to say that. "As you wish, milady!" he yells, like the real gentleman he is.

Before I know it, Owen's foot crashes into my leg, knocking it right out from under me. I jump up, seeing as I've done this several times in the past days and I've grown used to being knocked off my feet, and respond by means of punching him in the stomach and then kicking him in the same spot. He is forced back several feet, pained and aching. I use this opportunity to rest a bit.

He finally chooses to get back into his beginning stance, and I laugh a bit before doing the same. This time, I run at him before he can even make a snide comment. I knock him to the ground with a blow to the chest – I seem to hit there a lot – and he groans in pain. I smile triumphantly, since I'm finally the one who is up and on their feet instead of on the ground.

I look at the gathering tributes and beam at my victory. To dress it up, I place a foot on top of Owen's chest and put my arms in the air. "Victory is mine!" I bellow, and they cheer.

But then I'm on the ground faster than I can process, with a searing pain in my butt and all the positive feelings I just had vanish.

"Looks like I've kicked your butt," Owen says, standing up. "Ha! You have no idea how funny that was, Drew!"

I sigh. "Oh, ha ha. What a jokester."

Owen celebrates his victory with the crowd before they all disperse, and a small girl with red hair and a freckled face kneels over me.

"You okay?" she asks in a sweet tone. "I'm Kitanna."

"I'm fine, thanks," I groan as she helps me up. "I'm Drew."

"Like I don't know," she laughs. "I doubt there is a person in here that doesn't enjoy watching you and Owen fight."

"Well, it's nice to know that people enjoy my agony," I say. "At least I'm going before Owen in the private training sessions."

"Lucky, lucky you. I have to be the third person overall to go."

I do the math in my head. "District Two?"

She nods. "You bet. I could be like every other tribute from District Two and be perfectly trained and cruel, but I'm thankfully not."

"Thank the lord," I say, twirling my finger in the air. "I thought everyone was trained in District Two…?"

"Well, I used to be. I actually wanted to be in the Games, as weird as that might sound," she says. "But then when the time came and I was just about to volunteer, I grew some brains and realized that it wasn't worth losing my life. District Two may have a high chance of being the victor, but there are two tributes. It would definitely not be me if I was in this."

"How do you feel about this year?" I ask.

"A little nervous. Anxious, if you want a nicer word. I mean, my district partner? Just one look can tell you that he's wanted this for a long time."

I look at him from across the room. He has light blonde hair and is shooting arrows at a target, not reluctant to use any arrows that aren't his. "Do you like him? Like, is he nice?"

"Oh, I guess you could say that," she says, a little melancholy. "I've known him forever. We even had a little thing for a while, but that came to an end due to a friend of mine…." She trails off and stares at the floor.

"Your friend did what?" I ask, making her look up.

She looks a little embarrassed to talk about it. "She basically stole him from me and got the whole school to hate me in the process."

"Ooh," I say. "I don't have that, so we obviously can't bond over enemies."

She shrugs. "I'm over it. Anyways, see you later, Drew!" She walks away and goes to the sword-fighting station and picking up a sword that is about half of her height.

_Well, she seems nice._

_ And that's really suspicious for her district_.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

When Drew tells me about her time in training, I burst out laughing.

"You're kidding! She's kidding, right?" I ask, turning to Owen. "Hand-to-hand? And a _nice_ District Two girl?"

"It's true!" Drew says, exasperated. "She was pretty nice, which is pretty freaking suspicious."

"Watch out for her," I warn. "And apparently watch out for Owen, too. Since he can kick your butt while lying down and you can't."

She rolls her eyes. "Like I can't take Owen. Right, man?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," he says in a humorous voice. "Drew can kill me and burry the evidence so well that the Gamemakers won't even be able to find me!"

I start laugh uncontrollably, and so does Drew. Owen takes a bow and says, "Thank, thank you. I'll be dead by next week!"

This sends another round of laughter around the room. _My_ room, to be exact. I haven't seen much of my little tributes, so I decided to invite them in before they are critiqued beyond comprehension.

"So, guys, this is where things get serious," I say when I calm down. "I want to talk to you about sponsors. They're already pouring in from the opening ceremonies and I'm sure there will be several more after tomorrow. I have no idea what I'm supposed to get you with them and when, so I want you guys to give me some sort of signal when you need something, alright?"

They both nod. "We could have a secret form of communication!" Owen exclaims, and we laugh. "Let's just stick with simple signals, Owen," I say between the laughs.

"What are you guys doing for the private sessions?" I then ask.

"Hand-to-hand," Drew says, looking happy. I nod.

"Something completely random," Owen says. I look at him weirdly before asking, "What?"

"Well, I've been trying to help Drew this whole time, but I need to do something on my own. Something that's different. I'll probably come up with something off the top of my head and just do it on an impulse."

I nod. "That'll either win you lots of points or get you killed."  
>He shrugs. "It was probably going to happen anyways."<p>

That goes through my mind and I find it to be really weird. Has he already given up hope?

"Well, that's all, guys. You can leave," I say, shooing them out.

Drew and Owen collect themselves, walking irritably slow just to spite me. I laugh a little at them.

"Good luck!" I say right before they can close the door.

**Oh, my loyal readers, I have sad news for you.**

**I shall be vacationing over spring break – which is from this Saturday to probably next Sunday for me. So, unfortunately, there shall not be any posts during this week from any of my stories. [Insert crying noises]**

**Buuuuuuuuuut! (There is always that glimmer of hope that I will have good news…) I shall be writing over break, so I'm expecting to have another chapter up next Monday (so…far…away…)**

**And I still need tributes! It's pretty obvious who I need and who I don't right about now, so feel free to submit and I'll attempt to incorporate them in the story!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Scarlett's POV**

The next morning, I wake up to the sound of knocking. I groggily force myself up, still into my old habits where I have to sleep late and go to bed in the middle of the night. Obviously, that isn't helping me here.

I open the door, half expectin it to be Drew or Owen. But, instead, I get Finnick.

Not that there is anything wrong with that.

"Hey, Scar," he says. "Ready for breakfast?"

I groan. "Do I have to?"

He shrugs. "If you want to be healthy, then you have to."

"Is this appropriate attire?"

He looks me up and down, taking in the Capitol-issue pajamas and all. "As good as any, I suppose. I'm sure no one will care."

I smile. "Then I'm ready."

He laughs and we both head down the hallway, down an elevator, and the then go to breakfast.

The mentors are all sitting at the table in district order, per usual. Big surprise, I think upon sight of our chairs – the only chairs that are unoccupied. We sit, glance at the food on the table and don't hesitate to dig in.

After a few minutes of munching, Finnick takes a piece of salty bread and holds it up for me. "Try it," he says, a smile on his face.

I recognize this as District Four's famous bread, so I take a bite to find out what the fuss is all about. I take a bite and nearly choke on it.

I guess my bland District Three taste buds can't handle it.

I sit it out onto my plate and, despite the nasty glares from the people milling around the room, manage say that I'm fine before anyone asks. "You sure?" Finnick says, concern in his eyes. I nod and sit back in my chair, hoping to overcome sudden nausea.

"That thing is really salty," I finally say, casting a menacing glare at the bread. "I don't know how you stomach it."

"This, my friend," he says as he holds one up to the sky, drawing some attention, "is a delicacy where I come from. Nothing is better than bread!"

"No wonder you're so kooky," I joke. "It's the bread, isn't it?"

He smiles and plays along. "I have a secret stash back home and everything. Can't get enough of my bread!"

We both laugh before resuming our breakfast, choosing to talk about anything but bread. In fact, I avoid any type of bread for the rest of the meal – including my own District's.

"So, what do you think your tributes are doing right about now?" I ask Finnick as we walk aimlessly around the skyscraper.

"Iris is probably painting on herself in front of the Gamemakers and Wiley is probably throwing spears around in his mind, trying to figure out exactly what he is going to do with his specialty," he says without missing a beat. "What about you?"

I shrug. "Drew will be kicking a dummy over and over, and Owen…well, I don't know exactly what Owen would be doing."

Finnick nods. "I've seen him. He's kind of mysterious, don't you think?"

I can't help but agree. Who goes off into the private sessions and doesn't even know what they're doing? That's practically a death sentence on the spot.

I don't know about you, but that seems kind of redundant since he's being sent away with all odds against him anyway.

oOo

**Drew's POV**

What would a normal District Three girl be doing right now?

She'd be brushing her hair, cleaning her room, or doing her homework.

She would even be sleeping.

I'm the exception to that, I realize as I stand up to go into the private training session with all of the Gamemakers. Owen gives me an encouraging smile as I do, but I can't help but notice fear in his eyes.

No matter how much he wants to be like Wiress and Beetee, being able to hold in all of his emotions and seeming invincible, he just isn't cut out for it. Apparently, I am.

This subject came up earlier at breakfast, when chatting it up with Iris. We decided that one way to revel is to do it mildly, as in switching spots at the lunch table. The District Two boy, the one that Kitanna used to date, have a weird look before Kitanna pushed him out of his seat and was in his place faster than you can say "ouch".

"Between you and me," Iris had whispered, "I think you're coming out if anyone from your district does. Owen just doesn't seem like he could handle it."

I'm sure he would appreciate the compliment.

Kitanna nodded. "He seems too…fragile for the job."

Right about now I'm starting to realize that they might be right. I mean, my dad is a freaking Avox, and I've managed to push it out of my mind.

For the record, I only cried the first night that I knew.

My feet carry me away without notice, and I realize it until I'm in the gym we had been training in for the past days.

Thank you, subconscious.

The Gamemakers eye me suspiciously, as if I'm a stray dog they just let into their house. And, in their eyes at least, I am. I'm a strange person in a strange land.

_What was I going to do?_ I silently think to myself before my eyes land on the dummy I've been using lately. I almost head over to it before one of the Gamemakers asks me, "Your name?"

I stop in my track. "Oh, uh," I start, a little confused. "Drew Russell."

He nods. "Someone decided to switch seats at meals and we just want to make sure that it's actually you. Not some imposter."

I give myself an internal high-five.

I head over to the dummy, adjust its position a bit, and look back at the Gamemakers. They stare at me with no emotion. I gulp.

And then the limbs start flying.

I'm hitting the dummy, kicking it, and occasionally making the unintentional grunting noises that come along with the fighting.

A few minutes later, the Gamemakers tell me that my time is up, and I nod at them and thank them for the opportunity. They dismiss me.

When I'm heading back to my room for some much needed sleep, I spot Kitanna by the elevators, waiting. Her green eyes light up when she sees me. "Oh, Drew! I was waiting for you," she says.

I smile. "How did your session go?"

"Oh, God. Terrible. I really don't want to talk about it," she says stonily.

I shrug. "Have it your way."

"Want to go to lunch?" she asks me as I punch the button to call one of the elevators down.

"In a minute," I say, waiting. I'm going up to my room for a second. Want to come?"

She shrugs. "Sure. If my room is on the way, we can stop by there, too."

The elevator doors open and we both step in. I press the button for my floor and Kitanna stares at it. "That's my floor," she says, smiling. "I guess we're making a stop there, then."

"I guess so," I confirm, trying with all of my might not to have the elevator push me down while in the presence of someone.

I can't exactly call her my _friend_, since I don't trust her.

Oh, well.

We head down the hallway to my room, which comes first. I open the door and Kitanna takes in the space, not really impressed. "This is nearly the same as my room. Except yours looks a bit bigger."

"Looks can be deceiving," I remind her, kind of feeling a little awkward while saying it. For all I know, this could be true about Kitanna.

I hope not.

"So, what were you going to do?" she asks, looking a little antsy.

Honestly, I don't even know. I just don't want to be the first person at lunch. I'd seem like a mega-dork.

I shrug. "I wanted to go to the bathroom," I improvise. "I don't like the ones downstairs."

She nods with understanding. "That's believable," she says. Like she knows I'm lying.

_Watch out for her_, Scarlett said. A shiver runs down my spine.

My eyes wander around the room quickly before seeing a small piece of paper on my nightstand. _It wasn't there this morning_, I think to myself.

"Weren't you going to visit your room?" I ask. "I'm sure you're not going to be enjoying the time that I'm in the bathroom. How about you go to your room and we'll meet by the elevators?"

"Sure," she says, backing up to the door. "I'll see you in a minute!" She then leaves the room, and I heave a sigh, heading over to the table.

I pick up the flimsy paper, reading the small, barely visible print.

_Hi, Drew. How are you?_

_Dad_

My insides feel a little warm. He wants to talk to me. After these past few days, he figured out that he can finally talk to his youngest daughter.

God, I miss him.

I find a pencil and turn the paper over to the back, writing back a simple reply.

_Hi, Daddy. I'm holding up well. I miss you!_

_Drew_

I place both down in their original spots, feeling a little satisfied with myself and Dad, and leave the room to go meet up with Kitanna.

**I'm back!**

**So, I came back from vacation to find that I have quite a few hits (meaning thousands) for all my stories, which made me super happy. You guys know that I love you all, right?**

**And, apparently, my most viewed story is **_**Cannons**_**. You remember it, don't you? Good old Nimiane and Remington, battling to the death? Ah, the good old days. I find it weird that a story that I'm no longer writing because, you know, I finished it is still being viewed so much. Talk about hopeful, guys!**

**Thanks for reading, all you lovely people!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Drew's POV**

I have now decided that appearances are painful things to keep up with.

Not only was this thought in my head because most of my body has been waxed twice today, but because Rayne is twisting my hair into a really, really tight bun and Maryellen and Ernest are plucking my eyebrows.

I mean, it's been a few days, right? I don't think I look _that_ bad.

The interviews are tonight, which not only means that the prep team is visiting, but fabulous Gertrude is, too. And, not only is their presence somewhat scary, but they're probably not leaving _all day_.

Which means no response from Dad.

"Perfect!" Maryellen says, smacking Rayne's hand away from my hair before she can twist it more. "That'll be fine for Gertrude!"

I heave a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I'm starving. Can I go eat?"

Ernest checks the time and then shrugs. "Gertrude isn't going to be here for another hour, so go right on ahead."

I thank them and excuse myself, heading down to the dining hall. When I sit down, everyone seems to still be sitting in district order, which I quickly fix by making Owen and Iris switch, and the two District Two tributes switch.

I ignore the nervous feeling I get while sitting next to Kitanna.

"Food has never seemed so appealing!" I shout as I grab one of everything. I'm never going to eat it all, but my stomach wants to hope.

Kitanna nods. "I know, right? My stylist is all like, 'You need to fill out more!' So, she's basically telling me I'm too skinny. Even though this is a healthy weight for my district."

Iris laughs, shoving food into her mouth. "I wouldn't argue with my stylist if there was food in it."

"Good point. Food is pretty amazing."

I laugh at them both. "My head hurts so bad from them twisting my hair into this mega-tight bun. It looks so simple, right? Wrong. It kills my brain. I don't even know what I'm eating," I joke.

"Oh, my prep team hasn't done really anything to me yet," Kitanna absently says, pushing her food around on her plate. "They say I'm in really good condition. Except for the weight."

I was almost about to point out that this might be a result of her training for the Games for forever, but I don't.

After lunch, I'm back in my room. Sitting. Observing. Hoping that my prep team takes their sweet time to get back from restocking their supplies so I can get in contact with my dad.

He must've come during lunch, because the note is gone. It's like it vanished.

But I know that it didn't.

A knock comes from my door, and I warily get up. _What if this is some official coming to kill me because of Dad?_ my paranoid self thinks.

It's just Gertrude.

And Gertrude is holding an envelope.

"This was in front of your door," she says, placing the parcel into my hand and walking straight to the bathroom. "I thought you might want it."

_Thank you, Gertrude_.

"I'll be setting up in here," she says, sticking her head out from behind the bathroom door. "Come in when you're ready!"

I nod and she closes the door. My eyes wander to the unopened mail in my hand, and I gently open it.

_You like my upscale envelope? I stole it from some Capitol person who was ignorant enough to leave it around their room. I clean rooms, too – did you know that? I really miss you, Mom, and Olivia. They've been trying to see me, but haven't been able to. You never come with them, though. Next time they come, will you tag along?_

_Dad_

I write quickly on the back, and place the note back into the envelope.

_I'd love to!_

_Drew_

I then smile down at it and place it back on my bedside table, not even bothering to think about the Hunger Games and my potential death.

oOo

I don't know about everyone else, but just my outfit for the interviews really made me feel intimidating.

I mean, everyone has a sort of individual style going on, but in my personal opinion, mine is definitely amazing. Thanks to Gertrude, of course.

Everyone sits all in a row, wearing tuxes and short little dresses that shimmer in the spotlight. Some of us, myself included, opted for a longer dress.

And by we opted, I mean our designers opted.

Owen has on a simple black tuxedo. Nothing really fancy, except for his emerald green tie, that changes shades depending on the angle that the light hits it.

I also go the simple way, by means of wearing a long, emerald green dress that also changes colors, like Owen's tie. A few silver gems dot the torso and very bottom, forming a sort of wave-length pattern.

Nothing too extraordinary, like our opening ceremonies outfits, but still something nice to look at.

The first few interviews fly by. The girl from District One – Cleo, I believe – came off as likeable. But when she was asked about what training was like, she said there were a lot of fights, intentionally throwing an obvious glance at me and Owen. My cheeks burned with anger.

Thanks for making me look good, Cleo!

Her district partner, as well as Kitanna's district partner, were open with Caesar Flickerman and also came off to a nice start. They even got some pretty nice scores, which I really don't care about. I got a nine, which really doesn't bother me.

Well, it does, but not as much as it really should.

Kitanna owned the stage. She had on a multicolored, short dress that showed off her slim figure and her muscles. _And her prep team thought she needed to gain weight_, I think to myself. She was asked about her family, to which she replied she is an only child, but she babysits this little girl named Sierra all the time, so she's like family. She was also asked about her friends back home.

She didn't look so happy to say that she had none.

I swear she sent a menacing glance at her district partner.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Caesar says, "it's time for Drew Russell!"

The crowd cheers and I feel my face get hotter. I rise, slowly walking down the aisle and up the steps to the stage. I wasn't worried about falling down or anything – I mean, I was wearing flats under my dress unlike anyone else – just making a fool out of myself.

When I sit down in the plush seat, Caesar smiles at me and I smile back. I look in the audience for Owen, and then for Scarlett. They're both smiling, too.

"I hear your family comes to the Capitol a lot," he says. "Is that true?"

I nod. "My mom is all about the Capitol. And my sister is a saleswoman, who's main client is the Capitol. So whenever she gets called up for business, Mom doesn't hesitate to come along."

Caesar looks fascinated, and I almost laugh at him. "What about you? Do you ever come up here?"

I shake my head. "Oh, no. I'm still in school, so I stay back in District Three so I won't miss anything."

What a lie.

"And how is life back in District Three?"

"Well," I say, thinking about it, "I have two best friends, Teagan and Calder. They're awesome. And school is alright, I guess. My family doesn't really go through that many hardships, unlike others, due to our finances, which mainly come from the Capitol. So, you know, thanks guys," I say, smiling to the crowd.

"Did you know Owen before you got to the Capitol?" he asks, looking at the countdown clock that says we only have a few seconds left.

I try to stretch out my answer as much as I can, because, although I feel totally comfortable up here, that doesn't mean I want to be here. "Not really. He's a year older than me and all, so it's not like we interacted at school. And he lives in a totally different part of town, so I can't say that we're neighbors. So, your answer is no."

The countdown hits zero and I heave a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Drew!" Caesar says. I thank him and smile to the crowd, and then head back down to my seat. Owen gives me a smile before getting up to do his interview.

That's one thing off of my mind.

Now I have to deal with the actual Games.

**No Scarlett this chapter…I'm sorry! But this is another one of those chapters where it's more important that I focus on Drew. Plus, it's almost time for the Games! So deal with more Drew and less Scarlett because that's coming up!**

**I'll probably get another chapter out in the next few days, blah blah blah. You know, usual ending stuff.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

"Kitanna, will you please stop pushing me!" her district partner, Chad, shouts from the other side of the elevator.

She rolls her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. "I would remind you that you deserve more than a push, but I won't."

He looks a little shocked and Owen and I exchange looks. I told him all that I know about Kitanna, so he knows that Chad used to be her boyfriend until her friend stole him from her.

Now, this is why I don't bother with guys.

Cleo stares straight ahead, occasionally throwing glances at me. She's not very conspicuous, let me tell you.

"Anyways, Drew," Kitanna says, ignoring Chad, "I was going to tell you that you looked great up there. It made me proud to call you a friend."

I wince.

She doesn't see.

I give her a weak smile. "Me too. You totally had them going up there. Can I say sponsors?"

If anyone should be congratulated, though, it should be Owen. He not only charmed the crowd with his looks – looks that I did not, in fact, notice before he had the limelight – but his intelligence and humor as well. He had a whole ongoing thing with Caesar about how Owen's tie matched Caesar's hair. The crowd was crying because they laughed so hard.

The elevator door opens, and we all file out. Cleo stays behind the pack, eyeing us. But specifically me.

While everyone else laughs and congratulates the others, I tap Owen on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you guys in a minute," I whisper, and he nods. They all leave.

All of them except Cleo.

She glares at me, and I feel like crawling out of my skin. I open my mouth to speak, but then I'm suddenly against the wall, Cleo's arm up against my throat, making it hard to breathe.

"I can tell what you're doing," she says, pointing to the way that everyone just left from. "You're trying to get into the Careers. Well, I'll see to it that you don't, Drew. I will."

I freeze at hearing her words. Career? I haven't even thought about it.

Does this mean that the _Careers_ have accepted me?

She releases me and runs down the opposite hallway. I stand for a moment, shocked and full of fear. Then I walk as fast as my dress will allow me to catch up with the rest of my – I hate to admit it – friends.

_ My friends who think I'm Career material._

They all are gathered around a door that looks different from the rest – one that specifically tells you not to open it.

Naturally, they decide to open it as I catch up with them.

"Celebration time!" Kitanna says, and everyone else cheers. Loud enough to sound happy but soft enough not to wake anyone who had common sense and was sleeping.

They all rush outside, and I follow, a little reluctant. The air is cold and it's pretty dark, except for the few lights that are already out on the roof. The skyline is in front of us and you can practically feel the excitement circulating throughout the city.

I find Owen and give him a look. "What's all this for?"

"They wanted to have a last-hoorah," he says, motioning to all the people that just decided to start dancing without music. "To celebrate their past lives, I suppose."

I sigh. "They have no faith in themselves, do they?"

"No one has faith in themselves if they know that they're most likely going to die soon."

I glance at him. He has on a stony expression and I give him a hug. He certainly wasn't leaving himself out of his beliefs, by the looks of it. He smiles sadly at me and turns away, watching the feet hit the ground in musical time.

"I'll be right back," he says, walking towards the door before I can process what he just said. I let him go and decide to stand by the edge of the building instead of dancing along with everyone else. I look down at the people who are all leaving the interviews, laughing at how they look like ants.

Freaky Capitol ants, nonetheless.

Someone taps on my shoulder, and I instinctively look over the same shoulder. No one is there. I huff and look the other way, finding the guy from District One smiling down at me.

"Don't want to dance with us?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I never really liked dancing."

"Well, then, that's one thing so far that is wrong with you," he jokes, moving up so he is standing next to me.

He has ruffled blonde hair and tanned skin that imply that he's been outside quite a few times in his life. He is somewhat muscled, but not as much as any other Career tribute to walk around this place. But he is attractive, even so, due to the little things – like a small layer of stubble growing on his face to the little dimple on his left cheek.

"Oh, I think there are several more things that are wrong with me," I say, looking back down upon the Capitol. "You don't know the half of it."

"Well, from my observations at least, there isn't much."

Oh, God. This guy was good.

I turn back to him. "What's your name?"

"Troy," he says, looking proud. "The names been in the family for generations."

"Oh, really," I say, making an interested face. "Tell me more, please!"

Troy laughs. "I'm sure you don't want to be bored with my family history. Unless you do…?"

Now _I_ laugh. "Please, spare me of the honor of knowing."

We both smile at each other. "You know, even if not a lot happened during your interview, a lot of people like you. You're getting a lot of sponsors and all you have to do is lift your finger." He sighs. "I wish I could do that."

"Why can't you?" I ask.

He shrugs. "If I knew, I would be rolling in the love right now."

A moment of silence passes. "Now do you want do dance with us?" he asks.

I smile. "Why not?"

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

I knock on Drew's door, hoping that she is up already.

Who wouldn't be up this early on the day of the 71st Hunger Games?

She opens up after a few tries, obviously exhausted and not very happy to be forced to get up this early. "What is it?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"I need to talk to you," I say, letting myself in. Drew doesn't hesitate to take that as the signal to get back into bed and wait.

I sigh. "So. Today's the day."

She nods. "It is 'the day'."

"Look, I don't want you to feel like this is the last thing you'll ever do. I felt like that once and it pretty much sucked. But look at me now!" I say, trying to make myself sound confident and collected.

"I'm not going to let it all go," she says. "I have stuff I want to live to see, you know. Places I want to go, people to see."

"Well, everyone feels like that. But some just forget about that and bring their downfall upon themselves by losing it."

She yawns. "Can I go to sleep now? I understand your little don't-give-up-speech. Loud and clear, chief."

"That's not the only thing I wanted to talk about," I say, shaking my head. "I also wanted to tell you what I think of you, in a sense."

She sits up. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I start, "You watched the Games last year, didn't you? That girl from District Four – Finnick Odair's little sister – reminds me of you. Tough, determined, and a bit loose about things. She made smart choices. Most of the time, at least," I nervously say.

She nods a bit. "So, you want me to be like her, but a bit smarter?"

"I guess that's what I was going for. She could have won any day of the week, but she let go of her determination and motivation, which got her killed." I want to cry at the thought of her death.

Drew looks me in the eye. "I won't let you down, Scarlett."

I smile and get up to leave. She gets up and hugs me before I have the chance to go.

"I promise," she whispers.

**I'm suddenly really motivated to write. And that might just be because I just watched the Hunger Games movie…**

**Now, I normally don't cry at movies – I didn't at this one – but afterwards, I told my friends, "I believe that movie deserves a good cry."**

**And then I proceeded to shed a few tears on it.**

**So, anyways, thanks for reading!**

**The 71****st**** Hunger Games will start soon!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Scarlett's POV**

I sit back on a couch, all the other mentors talking to one another as if they do this every year.

Which they do.

Finnick gives me a worried look. "You nervous?"

I try to smile but it turns out to be a grimace. "I don't know."

"I feel the same," he says, staring at the screen of a TV that is playing reruns of the interviews from last night. In a few minutes, it'll spontaneously turn into a short countdown until the start of the games.

Joy.

Some laughter sounds to my left and I know the former-Careers are all enjoying their time together. They crave the Games. It's an honor for them.

It's a death sentence for the rest of us.

The interview for Owen comes on and I smile to myself. "He was really good last night, wasn't he?" I ask.

Finnick follows suit and smiles along with me. "The boy knows what he's doing, I suppose."

I don't bother to mention that he doesn't seem to have faith in himself.

The screen suddenly changes to the countdown and everyone freezes. A monotone, robotic voice counts down from thirty, and I hold my breath. At ten more seconds, the countdown changes to footage of the tributes standing in the arena, which you can't see all that well because the cameras are trying to see the tributes, not the arena.

Five.

Four.  
>Three.<p>

Two.

One.

They burst out running and I feel like crying. I turn to Finnick, whose eyes are glued to the screen, and crying on his shoulder. He barely notices as he watches several tributes be killed.

oOo

**Drew's POV**

Gertrude stares me right in the eyes. There are seconds left before the Games start. And I can't stop shaking.

"I'm rooting for you, Drew," she says, gripping my shoulders to keep me from falling down. "We all want you to win."

_ I don't know if I can do that._

The words of Scarlett's pep speech from earlier this morning ring in my head.

_I'm tough._

_ I'm determined._

_ I'm a bit loose about things._

I wince.

A countdown starts and I give Gertrude a parting glance. She smiles weakly as I step into a small glass tube. The clear door closes and I suddenly can't hear anything. Nothing except my heart beating in my ears.

_It's show time_, I think.

The floor starts to rise and I try not to freak out. The arena starts to flood my vision, and I feel very shaky.

All I can see is mountains and the cornucopia. I'm in a valley.

A valley full of bloodthirsty tributes.

The countdown is able to be heard again, and I hold my breath. The voice speaking counts down from five, and I close my eyes.

"One," it finally says.

My eyes burst open and I start to run.

**Yeah, so, I felt like I should keep writing, but there wasn't really a lot to write. So, short chapter! Yay!**

**I'll get right onto the next chapter as soon as possible…I think.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

I run as far away from the Cornucopia as I can, trying to avoid the bloodbath that is unraveling before my own eyes.

I feel tears spring up in my eyes. Why would they kill innocent children? There are certainly better ways to spread their message of authority.

I push them down and continue up the mountain, slowing down a bit because I'm not exactly in the best shape. In a minute I'm panting and my legs are burning.

Then I hear pounding footsteps behind me. Someone starts to call my name, and I sprint, kicking rocks out of my way.

_I will not die._

_ Not today_.

"Drew! Stop!" they shout and I try to pick apart the mysterious voice, attempting to figure out who it is.

"Stop or I'll lead everyone else straight to you!" they then say, and I stop.

I can't afford for that to happen.

I turn to face them. It's just Troy. A very exhausted yet cute Troy.

_Shut up brain! _I think. _This is no time for those thoughts!_

"What do you want?" I say bitterly. His face falls a bit at my tone.

"To listen to me."

I give him a look. "I'm listening."

"The Careers want you, Drew. We want you. I want you, for heaven's sake!" he says, a sort of desperation in my eyes.

I think about it, but then Owen's face pops up in my mind. I can't leave him behind. "What about Owen?"

Troy doesn't move a muscle. "We want _you_, Drew."

"Troy, I'm not doing anything without him," I say, turning around to walk away. I feel a little triumphant. He's silent for a moment, and all we hear is the sound of birds chirping and the screams of our fellow tributes.

"Yes, you will, because you know that your best bet of getting out of here is teaming up with us." He pauses. "You'll survive."

I breathe. Careers come from what districts? One, Two, and Four?

Oh, God. Cleo.

"Not if Cleo is in."

"She's not," he says, surprising sure of himself.

I turn to him. "How? She seems rather Career-ish to me."

"The others are fighting her right now," he says. "I couldn't stand to see it, but I want it to happen. It was a unanimous decision. She'll be gone before you know it."

Well, that's one thing off of my mind.

I take in a deep breath. This means life or death.

"I'm in."

Troy's face lights up. "But we're staying up here until the bloodbath is over," I say, wagging my finger in his face. "I'm doing what I want to do, got it?"

He smiles. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

oOo

An hour and ten cannons being shot, Troy and I start to go back towards the Cornucopia.

It's a pretty easy trip, despite the rocks that fly around whenever I put down my foot. I almost fall a few times, but either I manage to keep myself up or Troy helps me out. He walks down the mountain as if he does it every day.

"What's District Three like?" he asks, shading his eyes from the sun and looking down at me.

I avoid a big rock in my path. "Pretty dull. All business. We're serious about our industry, you know."

He nods. "I know what you mean. District One takes our jobs very seriously."

"Do you have a job?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "If I make it out of here, I'll have a job by next year. I'm eighteen, so I'm pretty freaking close to independence."

"Do you want it?"

"It's all every kid dreams of. Making my own decisions….Don't have to listen to parents….Free from the reaping."

Just him rambling about it makes me want to be an adult.

I look up at the Cornucopia. "Do you think they're waiting for us?"

"Probably on the outskirts of the mountains, if at all. They're not stupid enough to stand out in the open this close to the bloodbath," he says. "Come on, slowpoke. We're almost there!"

I laugh and he bounds down the few more yards we have until we reach the valley. I follow him, careful not to fall down on national television.

There are a lot of things that I'm not going to be able to do on national television.

When I catch up with Troy, he is looking around the valley. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" he teases. A few people step out from behind boulders and trees. Iris was actually sitting in a pile of snow.

Wait.

_Snow_?

"Well, we made it out," Kitanna says, looking proud. "And we seem to have a new recruit!"

"Or your next dinner," Chad says under his breath, which doesn't go unnoticed by Kitanna. She punches him in the stomach and he doubles over in pain.

"God, I've wanted to do that for weeks," she says, satisfied with herself.

_That doesn't make me feel any better_.

"So, what do we do now?" Wiley asks, holding a spear in his rough hands.

"We can set up camp," I suggest.

Kitanna looks a little bored. "Or we can go hunt down some more people!"

We all exchange wary looks, but Kitanna won't take no for an answer. "We can go up that mountain, right over there. And then we can split up into little groups. How about Iris and Wiley, Chad and Troy, and myself and Drew? That sounds good?"

My stomach drops.

_Now, wait a minute, Drew_, I think. _She's your ally now. You have to trust her. If she comes after you, you can totally take her. Do you hear me?_

"That sounds great," I say, trying my best to sound happy. She looks satisfied by my answer.

We climb up my second mountain today – I think I can feel muscles in my legs developing from the incline – and Kitanna is moving around the group like she owns it. "If you need help, just call out. Okay, guys?" We all nod.

We split up and Kitanna smiles at me as we go further up the mountain. "This can't be too hard, right?" I ask. "I mean, there are eight people somewhere in this arena. One of them _has_ to be close."

Kitanna shrugs. "I just didn't want to make camp just yet. Better wait and see if we find a more secure spot, right?"

"Oh," I say. We don't speak for a bit, mostly because I'm looking anywhere _but_ Kitanna and she's just strolling along as if there is no threat to her life right now.

I would kill for the ability to act like that.

_Literally_.

The thought of death comes across my mind and I start breathing heavily. Tears well up in my eyes. "Can we…stop?" I ask. "Just for a few minutes."

Kitanna turns to me, seeing my obvious show of emotion. "Yeah. I'm cool with that." She points to a boulder a few feet to our side. "Go sit up there. I'll keep watch."

I do as she says and position myself in a safe place on the large, sturdy boulder. Kitanna leans up against it, her eyes darting across the landscape while mine are watering uncontrollably.

_Drew, you don't cry outside of your house, _my mind tries to remind me, but my eyes just don't want to cooperate. _You better get used to the idea of death, or else this whole thing will be spent crying yourself dry!_

I keep at it and Kitanna stiffens up. I notice. I slide off of the rock, my face still wet with tears, and ask her what is up.

"Don't move," she says through gritted teeth. "Someone is here."

She slowly pulls a knife out of her waistband. My eyes widen.

_ Was that there earlier?_

Then a boy with dark skin pops out of nowhere, pushing be back. I fall and hit my head against the boulder behind me, my vision immediately spotted with multicolored, fuzzy balls.

The last thing I see before blacking out is Kitanna warding off the boy and then stabbing him in the chest. She pushes him down to the ground with ease and he is dead.

**Whaaaaaaaat?**

**I did not see that coming. Or did I? You don't know how I write, so you don't know if I did either…okay, kind of off-topic.**

**So, I'm probably not posting a chapter tomorrow, even though my track record for postings recently has been excellent. I have another story, you know….[which you should go read if you like Percy Jackson. Oh, hey! Free advertising!]**

**So, you know, thanks for reading, blah blah blah, usual send-off junk.**


	15. Chapter 15

I wake up to the bittersweet sounds of the Capitol's anthem.

I lie where I am for a few moments, taking in the Capitol's symbol in the sky, and all eleven people that died today. The first, thankfully, is Cleo. Owen isn't anywhere to be seen in the program.

After that is done, I sit up, taking in my surroundings. I'm near the Cornucopia, by the looks of the towering mountains all around me, but it's too dark to see definite details. Iris is asleep by my feet and everyone else is just a foot or two away, chatting around a small fire that doesn't attract _too_ much attention.

Wiley is the first to see me up and calls out my name. "Drew! Good to see you up!"

I rub my head, suddenly feeling a throbbing pain. "How long was I out?" I ask.

"Just a few hours," Kitanna answers, her face illuminated by the flames. "There wasn't a lot of blood loss before someone with a backpack and medicine got here."

"Props to me!" Chad says.

I pull my fingers away from my forehead and move over to the fire to see them better. A thin, sticky layer of red is on each finger.

"Well, that's a great way to start the Games," I say, sitting in between Wiley and Troy – the two people who I actually somewhat trust in this circle.

"Hey, there could be twelve dead right now, but there aren't," Troy points out, trying to lift my spirit.

It doesn't work.

"So, did you guys do anything else while I was – err – gone?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"The only person we found what the one who pushed you," Kitanna says.

"Other than that, nothing really happened," Chad says.

"We made camp," Wiley offers.

"Yeah, that's not what I was really going for," I laugh. "But thanks for trying."

We sit for a moment. My stomach rumbles, and Troy looks at me with a smirk. "Hungry?"

"Didn't eat much this morning," I state. "Of course I'm hungry!"

He reaches over into a pile that is hidden by the darkness of the night and hands me something. Small and round. Like berries. "Berries?"

He nods. "We've been eating them all night. Didn't want to risk our lives for some meat just yet."

I eat a few and swallow. They have a tart taste but certainly don't taste bad. Not to a person who hasn't eaten all day.

Just wait until I go hungry.

It's going to happen sooner or later.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

I couldn't watch the first ten minutes of the 71st Hunger Games.

It was too much. Knowing that I just went through that and now I have to watch people I know go through it is just too much to me to handle.

While everyone else stared at the screen, rooting for their tributes, I was covering my eyes and my tear-stained face. Finnick would occasionally turn to me and comfort me, but then he'd go right back to the television. Almost as if he, along with everyone else, was hypnotized.

The Games is the magician, and we're under its spell.

"Hey, Scar," Finnick says, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Bloodbath is over. Ten down."

"That many already?" I ask, uncovering my face.

He shrugs. "That's the point of the bloodbath. They want to get several people out of there in a short amount of time. Makes it easier to broadcast when there are less people to follow."

I sit up straight watching the screen. The Careers are all deciding to hide near the mountains, and they split up a moment later.

Then Drew is on the screen.

I draw in a sharp breath. _She's still out there_.

She runs up a mountain, not daring to look behind her. The camera angle allows you to see one of the Careers – from what I can tell – hot on her tail. He shouts out her name and she eventually stops.

Then the weirdest thing happens.

She is debating on whether or not to join the Careers.

Thoughts of Kitanna fill my head and I can't help but think that this is a terrible idea. But then the boy speaks up.

"Yes, you will, because you know that your best bet of getting out of here is teaming up with us. You'll survive."

And I instantly know that she makes the right decision as she agrees to his deal.

oOo

You know what I love about being able to watch the Games and not being in it anymore?

You can finally appreciate the fact that the Capitol tries to focus on multiple people throughout this horrendous death-trip.

Hours later, all of the mentors are still sitting in front of the television, watching intently. I didn't look away when Kitanna killed the boy from District Eight. Nor when Drew's head was suddenly covered in red.

No one moved during the whole day. There were no tears, unlike me. There was no talking. Just silence and watching our little tributes fight to the death.

I feel a little bit relieved when I see Owen on the screen, not dead or injured. Finnick never mentioned Owen in this report on the bloodbath – just the Careers, so it is an awesome feeling to know that both of my tributes are some of the few to still be left.

Owen is attempting to scale a dangerously steep mountain, only using his rough hands and boot-covered feet to help him. No backpacks. No weapons.

Just two hundred pounds of pure determination.

He makes it to a flat spot, where he decides to sit. He's not that far up the mountain, so I suppose he doesn't get sick or nervous at the sight of the landscape below him. He certainly doesn't look that way.

It's pretty dark, and I'm sure he's anticipating the report on the dead. He has that look on his face that shows that he's waiting for something to happen. And what else could happen this late at night?

The anthem starts to play and I feel a bit proud of myself for figuring out what he was thinking. His face turns to the sky. There are no faces from District Three up there tonight, and he smiles, heaving a sigh of relief.

He's looking out for Drew, it seems.

She may be knocked out right about now, but she's looking out for him too.

**I lied when I said I wasn't releasing another chapter today. [Although I'm sure it's not as bad as when I say I'll post stuff soon and I don't…]**

**And, yes, Scarlett didn't really do much, blah blah blah. I didn't have anything else to say for Drew, blah blah blah. I hate writing short chapters, etc.**

**Well, I feel pretty accomplished right now for put up chapters on both of my [not completed] stories today, so hoorah! **

**I have decided that I'm going to eat a Klondike Bar. I'll write a new chapter for each of my stories for a Klondike Bar! Oh, I make myself laugh….**

**Thanks for reading! [And putting up with my Klondike Bar talk]**


	16. Chapter 16

**Drew's POV**

This is pretty nice, _I think as I swoop through the air, laughing to myself as I intentionally make holes in the fluffy, white clouds._

_ I'm not one for dreaming – maybe it's my head injury or something – but this dream is awesome._

_ So far I've swam with the sharks – I developed gills during that – and hung out with my whole family in a totally chill place. Now I'm teaching myself to fly in the freaking sky!_

_ And I'm not even thinking up this stuff._

_ I continue on my way, trying not to look down out of fear that I'm really high up and that I'll fall. Eventually I go against common sense, though, and stick with my gut, which tells me to take in the dream and process it as much as I can._

_ Looking down, I see the arena. The only differences are the valley is flooded and that the trees are all chopped down, lying on top of one another._

Weird_._

_ I look back up, trying to decide that the clouds are shaped like. One fashioned like a duck goes by, and I smile to myself. This is the best I've felt in days – free, happy, and the leader of my own life._

_ The Capitol may be able to take my freedom from me while I'm awake, but they can't do anything about my dreams._

_ A few little chopping noises ring in my ears, and I freeze, causing myself to nearly fall out of the air. I try to get myself to float back up, but nothing I try works._

_ Then I feel like I can't hear anything. Nothing at all. Not the air going by. Not even my own breathing._

_ Of course, that might be because a second later, I can't breathe. I grab my throat, surprised by this, and quickly drop out of the sky, gasping for air._

oOo

I wake up gasping, just like the end of the dream.

It takes me a moment to realize that someone's arm is constricting the flow of air in my body. That person, being Troy, who has an arm protectively draped over me. He's still sleeping. But I'm not the only one awake.

I don't sit up, but instead adjust myself so I don't wake up Troy. I take a look at him and feel myself smiling. He has a few blades of grass mangled up in his blonde hair, and he's sleeping soundly with a look of neutrality on his face.

On my other side, Wiley sleeps next to Iris, who is curled up so her legs are against her chest. The only two people I don't see are Kitanna and Chad.

I quietly shift so that my head is facing out in front of me. Chad is in plain sight, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of an imaginary song. A pair of feet is all I can see of the figure towering over him.

_Kitanna_.

She's holding something up to her face, examining it. I recognize it as the knife she used earlier to kill that boy who tried to kill me. I feel a bit thankful yet fearful of the blade.

Before I can even begin to think of what she's doing, Kitanna thrusts the knife down, plunging it into Chad's chest. I wince in shock, gasping for air. What did I just witness?

She just attacked her district partner.

It is then that Kitanna decides that one stab is not enough at the back-stabber, but she has to repeat her actions several times until there is so much blood and practically no Chad left.

Scratch that.

She just killed her district partner!

A cannon goes off a minute later, confirming my suspicions. I feel some tears coming on, partly out of shock and partly out of fear for my own life. I don't try to stop them. Instead I close my eyes and lay my head back down, and let them roll. I could chalk this one up to a bad dream in a heartbeat.

oOo

Kitanna is still here in the morning.

Of course, I would know if she ever left – she didn't – because I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. I did wake up a Troy and Wiley with my crying, though, and they mostly gave their attention to me and not the fact that Chad disappeared by means of Capitol hovercraft before they even were up.

In the morning, we all seem a little suspicious, since there is obviously one less person in our little group. I choke up at the thought of him.

"Where's…Chad?" Iris asks to break the silence that had fallen over us.

I feel a little tug at my heart. I want to say that he's dead – Kitanna killed him and I watched it happen. But I stay silent, thinking about how without Chad, I could be dead right about now.

_ If only I had returned the favor._

A murmur of shared confusion goes around, and Troy gives me a questioning look. _Do you know about this?_ his eyes seem to ask.

I dismiss him.

We go about our day like we did yesterday – minus the bloodbath. We split up, but this time I was quick to grab Troy instead of being picked out by Kitanna.

Better safe than dead.

We walk for a few minutes in an awkward silence – partially because I feel guilty and partially because I don't want to be the first person to talk. I don't exactly know _what_ to talk about.

He awkwardly clears his throat. "So…Chad."

"What?"

"What do you know?" he asks, giving me a look that implies that he knows I know something.

I can feel the tears coming back at the thought.

"Kitanna," I whisper, as if she can hear me from the completely opposite direction we walked in. "She did it."

Troy nods, like he suspected it all along. "Did you see it?"

"Yes."

"We need to drop her."

I nod. "Definitely."

"Let's just keep going as far away from the Cornucopia as we can, and stay as far away from her as possible. Okay?"

"Okay."

I'm still trying to comprehend our plan when he grabs my hand, laces his fingers through mine, and gives them a squeeze.

"It's going to all be over soon," he says, giving me an encouraging smile.

"I know," I whisper.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

Let me tell you how the mood of the room that the mentors all gathered in changed when Kitanna killed Chad.

First, there was nothing.

And then there was shock.

And then Enobaria stormed out of the room.

It was certainly something. I don't think that someone has intentionally killed their district partner – nevertheless, their district partner who they were allied with. It's certainly a first for the Games.

But, enough about the Games.

Let's hear it for the fabulous life of Scarlett Chadsworth!

_Today's agenda: Work on getting more sponsors, watching the Games, and finding other ways to occupy myself_.

Hooray.

"Do you think Drew will be the next target of Kitanna?" the multi-millionaire Capitol citizen asks me, leaning forward in his seat. "If so, I don't want to sponsor. It would be a waste of my money!"

_ Because I'm sure that's all that matters to you._

"Listen to me," I say, not bothering to say his easily forgettable name. "Drew is probably going to stay as far away from Kitanna as possible. She's smart! She'll figure it out."

"Does she even know Kitanna killed Chad?" he asks, worried.

I sigh. Has this guy been watching the Games _at all_?

"She woke up right before she killed him. She witnessed the whole thing," I reassure him. "If she doesn't know, I'll send her something to tell her. Okay?"

He looks a little relieved, but not much. This guy is obviously all about the money, by the looks of it. He doesn't want to waste a cent.

"Okay," he finally says, getting up from his side of the table to shake my hand. "It's a deal. I'm sponsoring Drew Russell in the 71st Hunger Games."

He quickly writes a check and hands it to me, and I smile gratefully at me. Every last cent will be useful. He then walks out of the meeting room with a stance that conveys pride and arrogance.

I walk out behind him, and immediately see Finnick standing across the hall, waiting for me. "I'll assume that the mission was successful?"

I smile, holding up the check. "You bet it was!"

This feeling – helping someone who depends on me – is the best feeling in the world, let me tell you.

**So, guys, I'm sorry for not posting lately. I'll just give you the summary of why this came to be instead of making lame excuses: I was happy-go-lucky me, writing almost every day and I had no problems.**

**And then I got a dog.**

**And that's my story – I'm sticking to it.**

**And, I know you guys have been antsy for "romance" (I'm not very good at that) so I tried… I guess. Tell me what you think? (I'll love you forever?)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Scarlett's POV**

"What are you suggesting?" Seneca Crane asks me, leaning forward in his seat and placing his hands on the meeting-table, looking like a large business owner.

"You know what I'm suggesting," I say, no emotion in my tone.

It's a terrible thing to wish upon people, I know, but with the money I've gained for Drew, what else can I do? It's not like she needs anything else more.

"I'm willing to pay for it," I add.

His eyes widen for a moment but then the look of shock on his face disappears. "I'm not sure what other Gamemakers have done in the past, Scarlett, but I'm sure they haven't been bribed."

"I know."

In fact, I went over my plan with Finnick and he said that Gamemakers have never been bribed before, to his knowledge.

He rubs his temples. "I don't know what to do."

I pull out a pre-written check and slide it across the table. "Now you do."

I'll admit, the amount that I wrote up was at most half of what I should be paying, but why not try to trick the new guy?

He slides the check the rest of the way across the table, eyeing the zeros at the end of the number. "I'll make sure it happens," he finally says, stuffing the slip of paper into his coat pocket and standing up to leave.

I sit behind for a moment.

_I'm getting really good at this bribing thing._

oOo

**Drew's POV**

Small droplets of rain fall on my face as I tilt it towards the sky.

I feel free.

Well, as free as a girl can be when forced to fight to the death.

Troy and I have been on the run for how long? Maybe a day? I'm loving every moment of it. I'm not getting the I-want-to-kill-Drew-vibes from Troy, so I feel pretty much safe.

No one died yesterday, which also lifted my worry for Owen off of my shoulders.

But that also means Kitanna is still out there.

"Can we please stop?" Troy groans as another drop of water hits him in the eye. "I can't see."

"No way!" I say, energized. "We're going up this mountain until there is no more mountain to go up!"

He sighs and shakes his head. The rain obviously doesn't amuse him.

"Come on, Troy," I say, lightly punching his shoulder. "We could be running from a potential killer, for all we know. Rest is not an option, even at this altitude."

He looks at me. "I know, I know. I get where you're coming from."

"If you don't, then you obviously haven't been paying attention to the past seventy Hunger Games," I say.

He laughs. "There was a lot of stupidity."

"Like going _towards_ the Cornucopia?" I say. "Oh, don't mind me, just assisting my own murder!"

He laughs. I laugh. And then we go silent.

The rain starts to get heavier, pounding on my skull, which doesn't feel good since I probably have a huge bruise there from Kitanna's protection. Troy looks at me expectantly.

"Fine," I say. "Let's find a cave or something."

His face brightens, immediately rushing forward so we can find somewhere as soon as possible. Not even a second later, I hear his shouts of discovery.

"Land ho?" I ask when I catch up with him.

"_Cave_ ho," he corrects.

Cave ho is right. The cave is big enough for maybe four people to sprawl out in, which means Troy and I get as much room as we want. _Thank the Gamemakers_.

We both duck our heads to go inside, instantly having the weight of the rain removed from our minds. My head feels like it's pounding, but I try to ignore it the best I can.

The rain instantly slows to just a trickle when we both sit down, and I roll my eyes. Those silly Gamemakers.

The short silence is suddenly replaced with the rumbling of the earth, and Troy and I jump up, panicking. I rush to the mouth of the cave, looking out just in time to see the mountain next to ours collapse on top of itself. A few screams rise up behind the immense noise of boulders smashing into one another.

_Please let one of those screams be Kitanna's_, I silently pray to whoever is listening. _And please never let her scream again._

Three cannons go off, not to my surprise. Troy comes to my side, observing the scene. "That's unfortunate," he says, staring.

I try to forge some feelings for the people in the avalanche, but I come up with none. It's not the same as watching them die right in front of you. "Yeah," I mumble.

A little clack startles both of us, and I search the horizon for the source of the sound. I set out of the cave, searching around the mouth for the noise.

I see a small metal container with a parachute attached to it and I feel a little happy. Scarlett's looking out for me. I open it up to see a lot of food – which wasn't a problem before, but the effort is appreciated. A pure white slip of paper lays on top of the petite pile.

_I'd advise that you get off that mountain._

_ -Scarlett_

I furrow my brow for a moment before realizing what she means. "Time to go, Troy!" I shout, pulling his arm out of the cave and running down the mountain. I stuff the slip of paper in my pocket.

He stumbles for a moment before matching my pace. We run down the mountain, and within a few minutes, we can see the bottom of the giant.

That is a long, _long_ way down.

The rumbling comes back right now, the mountain shaking us back and forth. I nearly bump into Troy, which could send him spiraling down a mountain with no hope of living. In an instant I grab his hand and speed up, practically sliding down the path we went up to get to the cave.

The crunching of rocks fills my ears and my head starts pounding. I stop moving, grasping my head out of pain and instinct. Troy quickly notices and shouts at me to come along, which I don't hear due to the avalanche and the pounding in my ears. He turns himself around to get me, dragging me behind him before deciding just to carry me down the mountain.

I'm totally cool with that, though.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the noises get closer and much louder. This isn't the best day to have to deal with an landslide, let me tell you.

I open them a sliver and look back to see rocks chasing after us, getting closer by the second.

I turn to the front to see us almost to the bottom.

I look up and see Troy struggling to keep his hold on me without tripping.

"Let me down!" I yell in his ear, not able to tell how loud I am due to the noise. He reluctantly does so and grabs my wrist, pulling me along.

We make it to the bottom and run out toward the Cornucopia before the rocks even crash into the ground.

_ Thank you, Scarlett._

"How did you know that that was going to happen?" Troy asks, out of breath.

I pull the note out of my pocket, my hands trembling. He reads the small print and nods, handing it back to me.

_Thank you, Scarlett._

**Avalanche, whaaaaaaat?**

**Yes, readers. I did pull the natural disaster card on you again. It's only because that's the best card there is without having to think in-depth about it. xD**

**You all know how much I hate thinking, right?**

**And guess who is the proud owner of a Team Finnick and a District Four shirt? 'Dis girl!**

**AND [I swear, this is the last thing] go watch this Hunger Games song that I listened to all throughout writing this chapter: .com/watch?v=oepSl1rDV30**

**Thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Drew's POV**

It took at least three hours to make the pulsing in my head stop.

All the while, I was unable to think. The only things I could do where natural and didn't require thought – breathing, blinking, registering pain. All things of the sort were what I was capable of doing under Troy's watchful eyes.

He had moved us to some forest area between two mountains. He carried me here, and placed me gently down on the soft grass. He hasn't spoken since I showed him the note from Scarlett.

Of course, I haven't been much help to the conversation, but whatever.

"Troy," I say, breaking the silence, "what are we going to do now?"

He doesn't look down at me. He only looks at the horizon, a bit of hurt shining in his eyes. "We'll wait here until morning. I'm sure we'll be fine."

"What are we waiting for" I ask, sitting up.

"Nothing."

I feel like he's lying, but I don't question him.

"Okay," I finally say.

We don't speak much after that. We eat some food that Scarlett sent in silence. The rain comes again, but we don't move.

I drift off to sleep in the rain before Troy pokes my arm, waking me up. "What?" I drowsily ask, shielding my eyes from the droplets.

He points to the sky, where the Capitol's symbol is. "It's time."

The anthem plays, the beat echoing in my ears. I cover them, trying to stop the pain in my head from growing. Troy puts his arms around me protectively.

The three faces that show up are three of the ones who died in the avalanche.

Kitanna's face pops up for a split second before it immediately goes away, like the Capitol made an error.

The _Capitol_ making an error in the _Hunger Games_?

That's a laugh.

Troy doesn't seem unaffected, so I chalk that one up to my messed up head and move along.

Kitanna's image is replaced by Iris's face. Her bronze hair is long and flowing, and her complexion is clear. Her eyes, however, are full of mistrust and hurt.

The other two don't matter to me.

It gets dark again, and Troy sighs. "Another Career bites the dust."

"Just the not the Career we were hoping for."

"If only." He pauses, looking up towards the dark sky. He makes a hand gesture to the sky, as if trying to contact the heavens to just remove him from here right now. Nothing happens, though.

I forget about it for a bit, lulling myself to sleep with thoughts of home, family, Dad. Mostly of the times Dad and I could share if I could take him home and away from the Capitol.

oOo

In the morning, I wake up all alone.

I frantically twist my head, panicking that Troy decided to leave me all alone. I sit up, grasping my head and thrusting it between my knees to prevent a nervous breakdown. But that doesn't stop the thoughts from swimming through my head.

_What if he's out to get me?_

_ What if he's dead and I didn't hear the cannon?_

_ What if he's working for Kitanna and trying to kill me, _too_?_

Before I can throw myself too far into conspiracy, I hear the distant crunch of leaves. I jump up, the nerves from my thoughts giving me sudden energy. I take a fighting stance, ready to kick whoever is coming's head so hard that it'll come clean off.

Kidding, of course.

I can't kick _that_ high.

My brain goes into overload. I almost begin to run before a familiar voice whispers in my ear.

"Hi there, Drew."

I nearly fall down from shock.

It's Owen. He managed to get behind me without my hypersensitive brain noticing.

"How did you get here?" I nearly scream.

"Oh, Troy directed me," he says. "He told me that he has some business to do. And he also says he'll be back soon."

So Troy didn't abandon me. He just left to finish some _business_.

"What kind of business?" I ask suspiciously.

He shrugs. "All I know is that he had a sword. And a pretty nice one, too. Looked expensive," he adds.

I cock my head to the side, slightly confused. He didn't have a sword last night.

But he does have the looks, the personality, and the skill to win sponsors.

But the business he has? I don't even know what that could imply.

Owen looks around. "How long have you been at this spot?"

"Since after the avalanche on our mountain and the one next to it yesterday," I say, looking back behind me to indicate which one we were on. "And we were only there for a little bit."  
>"I'm surprised you didn't die," he says. "No offense."<p>

I shrug it off. "It's all because of Scarlett. She sent me this note right after the first avalanche." I pull the note out of my pocket and show it to him.

He examines it, then pulls a nearly identical slip of paper.

_Don't tell Drew that I used some of her sponsors and that I pulled some strings to get you this. I'm sure you'll know how to use it. Be wise._

_-Scarlett_

"What did she get you?" I ask, giving back his note. He puts it back in his pocket, pulling out something else.

It looks to be a small remote, about the size of the container brand-new earrings come in. In the middle is one button – large, red, and very tempting to push.

"It's a detonator," he says. "I don't have it quite figured out, but I'm working on it. I'm afraid to tamper with it, because it might detonate something that I could use as a distraction later."

"So you don't know what it is going to blow up?"

"Not a clue."

I look at the remote again. Scarlett pulled _some_ money out of my sponsor money to get him _this_? This seems more like it would cost a fortune more than _some_ money.

Either she has a really elaborate plan for us this year, or she is insane.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

Free days are the best invention known to man. No meetings, no required activities – just me, myself, and I.

And, well, the ever-so-positive Finnick.

That is, if Finnick's dad didn't die yesterday.

He found out this morning. District Four has been having some bad storms from the sea recently, and some people just couldn't afford to stop working out on the water. One of those people was Finnick's dad. He needed the money, since he refused Finnick's financial help and was losing most of his deceased wife's. He would've been bankrupt pretty soon if he had stopped.

He died on a fishing ship along with several other desperate workers. Finnick asked for a leave from the Games this morning, but he was refused. He can't even go to his own father's funeral.

We decided to have one of our own.

The skyline of the Capitol is coated with a soft orange and yellow look, due to the sunrise being blocked by clouds. It's quiet and not one car moves on the streets below. They're all inside, watching children fight to the death.

Finnick and I have other things in mind.

Of course, we don't have ashes or a body or any ground to burry anything in. But we've got _permanent_ markers.

They leave an impression, am I right?

Finnick stands at the edge of the building, his hands on the railing. "Ready to draw?" I say, holding up two markers. He smiles weakly, taking one from me.

"We really only need one, you know," he says, kneeling over the floor and uncapping his marker. "I'm the only one of us who actually knows my dad."

I smile mischievously. "I have something I want to do, too."

He shrugs it off, getting started immediately on writing his message to the Capitol about his father. I write what I want to write all the while.

In the end, Finnick wrote:

_My father died yesterday. I'm not even allowed to say goodbye to him, even if he's dead. I left him this year, thinking I'd see him when I got back from mentoring. I've been guaranteed the safety of my friends and family as long as I do your bidding. You guaranteed that I would see him again. You lied._

"You 'do their bidding'?" I ask.

He leans closer to me. "They practically sell me to people up here. No one in the Capitol can get enough of me. It's the only way Nimiane and Dad even ate for a while. You know that they wouldn't take my money." He looks a little guilty. "So I got some off of the Capitol and was guaranteed their safety if I came up every so often to go wherever they want. I would sneak it into their savings whenever I could."

A little bit of fear strikes in me. Will they do that to me? Will my family become the target of the Capitol?

Granted, my family hasn't done much for me lately, but they're family. You only have one family for as long as you live.

Finnick changes the subject and reads over my writing.

_Do you know who you take when you arrest someone? You take a family man. You take a father. You take a husband. You take someone with a life, responsibilities, and goals. But worst of all, you treat them like they're replaceable – like they're nothing to you. People shouldn't be treated like that._

"What's this about?" Finnick asks, his eyes glued to the words.

I bite my lip. I don't really want to explain that I had to go into Drew's room to get something for Gertrude – she decided to make some final touches on something she's making for her "little victor". I don't want to explain how I actually _got in_.

"I had to go into Drew's room," I say, anyways. "She had some notes on her dresser, and I read them. Turns out her dad is an avox and they've been having a secret exchange via notes. It's really sweet, and it just makes me so angry that they would make two people with that great of a relationship have to part!"

Finnick nods. "It's really unfortunate, what the Capitol does to us."

I take a breath, calming myself down. "Yeah," I say. "Yes it is."

**I made this long for you, my little readers.**

**And I also felt guilty for posting two chapters on one story and not doing any on this one, so….**

**I'm so close to the end of this that all I can think about is what I want to do next – I have, like, three choices right now and it's kiiiiiiilling meeeeeeee [I love exaggerating!]**

**Thanks for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Scarlett's POV**

I dial the number on the keypad in front of me, hoping to get some sort of communication to my family.

Finnick's situation – I'll admit it – scares me. I have a feeling that it's not going to be long before I'm being sold to people and bargaining my life for my family's.

See, I luckily don't have to settle with just hearing my family's voices. I can _see_ them with the technology the districts came up with years ago.

I finish dialing the number, hoping to reach Wiress while she's at home. My window's view turns into a bit of static at first. The image of an older woman with black hair and ashen skin sitting at her kitchen table confirms that she is.

"Scarlett?" she says. "How are things going up there?"

"Fine," I say, brushing off the subject. "I need to ask you to do something for me."

"And that would be…?"

"You know where my family lives," I say. "Go find them, bring them to your house. I want to talk to them."

She looks a little confused, but doesn't question. "I'll be right back, then," she says, getting up from her seat at the table, leaving my line of sight for a few minutes.

I become a bit nostalgic. She's going down to the end of the Victor's Village, walking down Main Street to take a right on the street with the factories all in a row. At the very end is my family's home – a square, flat-roofed building with a loft on the second floor. She's probably grimacing at the poor quality of the grass out front, due to my brothers' constant rough-housing outdoors.

She comes back maybe ten minutes later, motioning for some invisible people to sit at her table. And there they are – my family.

Safe, content, and cool.

_And certainly not_ _dead_.

"Hi, guys," I say sheepishly, waving at their image.

My mother is the first to smile at me. "Hi, Scar," she says. "We miss you!"

_ I'm so sure._

"I miss you, too," I force out. "How are things at home?"

"Promotion!" Marco shouts, a grin breaking out across his face.

"To what?" I ask, glad for him.

"I'm now Head Designer," he says. "It's so much easier on me than before. I get to work less but get paid more!"

My four other brothers groan. "Good for you," I hear Kirk mumble.

I laugh. "Awesome, Marco! Anything else?"

Mom shrugs. "Nothing, really. Same old, same old. How about you?" "It's kind of _really_ weird here," I admit. "The situation with everyone is weird. Finnick is having…family problems. And the tributes…." I trail off.

Mom makes a sympathetic noise. "Scarlett, it'll be okay. You still have us, no matter what happens."

"You can always come home if you want," Dad reminds me. "It's always an option."

Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better.

"It's alright, guys," I say. "But I've got to go. I'll see you soon?"

They wave. "See you soon," someone says, but I don't know who since I ended the call.

oOo

**Drew's POV**

"Have you killed anyone, yet?" Owen asks me later that day.

"No," I say. "But I've seen it happen."

"With Chad?"

"Yeah."

He puts an arm around me reassuringly, like an older brother would do to a younger sibling. "You'll forget about it eventually.

I can't tell if he means that I'll lose my memory of it or that I'm going to die before it comes back to haunt me.

Either way works.

"Have you?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I was camping out on the side of a mountain for the past few days. It wasn't one of the ones that was part of the avalanche, so I could have stayed there for as long as I liked."

"But you got hungry, antsy to move, paranoid about being found…." I add on.

"Yeah. There was also this ominous-looking cave above me, and you know how the Gamemakers like to use mutations. One can't be too careful."

It gets darker and thoughts of Troy come to my mind. "Is Troy still out there?" I ask.

Owen shrugs. "He can be an arrogant guy sometimes. There was a cannon earlier this morning. His head might have gotten too big for his britches and he could have been brought down, for all I know."

I swear my heart stops beating for a second. My only friend – other than Owen, of course – could be _dead_.

No. I refuse to think that way.

I stand up from my seat on the grass, and start to walk away. "I want to move. Let's go," I say, not leaving room for complaints.

Owen doesn't say anything for a minute. But then he says, "I don't want to move. I'm tired."

"That's too bad for you," I bitterly say. "I'm moving on."

And then I walk away, and he doesn't follow.

_ Free at last._

I head to the Cornucopia, hoping that there would be a weapon or something to use in case I need it. I have no training in using any of them, so I guess any weapon will do.

I get tired, so I search for somewhere to sleep. Trees are no good, since there are very few trees in District Three, and therefore I don't know how to climb them. The best bet I have is up on a mountain. It'll cost me hours of sleep to find a good place to stay, but it will be worth it in the long run.

I take a right and trek up the closest mountain. I can feel my eyes trying to close, as if sandbags are attached to them. But I don't let them. I'm going to be safe before I rest.

I don't stick to that promise.

Pretty soon I can't see five feet in front of me, so I choose to sit behind a boulder that is larger than I am. If I'm going to sleep, I don't want anyone to see it.

I lay down on the hard rock, ready to encounter whatever my dreams choose to bring to me. I close my eyes and go to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Drew's POV**

The screeching of rocks moving wakes me. My head is the first to move, frantically turning around to find what the source is. But my eyes?

They decide that they don't want to work for a few seconds.

When the image of darkness and random splashes of color cease to fill my eyes, the first thing I see is the boulder I decided to sleep behind last night.

It's _much_ closer than it was before.

It takes a moment for me to realize that the boulder is the source of the sound, and that it is getting closer by the second.

"Hey!" I call out. "What the hell are you doing?"

I hear a snarky laugh from whoever is pushing. They don't stop.

Finally, I start to panic. And scream. I can practically feel the life being squeezed out of me.

A little plan is suddenly devised in my claustrophobic mind when the sound of swords crashing together becomes audible. _If I can trick whoever this is, they'll stop. Right?_

I keep on screaming my head off, trying my hardest to make it sound pained and hopeless. I listen carefully to the swords, hoping that they'll do just what I want.

The sounds stop quickly, but the boulder's movement continues.

I stop screaming suddenly right before a cannon goes off.

The boulder stops a shoulder length away from the side of the mountain. Whoever was pushing it sighs from relief and starts to walk away. No emotion can be heard, but there is a tension in the air.

They know what they _think_ they have done.

I put one of my boot-clad feet on the side of the mountain, the other on the boulder. It's not very sturdy, and easily pushed, so I have to be very careful. I climb up and over the large rock, and softly place my feet on the ground.

Whoever it is doesn't look familiar – at least, not from behind. She, I'm going to assume, has long red hair and a muscular build. She doesn't seem to have any weapons on her – that would explain why she was pushing a boulder to squish me instead of stabbing me then and there.

I creep over, careful not to make a noise, and I take a fighting stance right behind her.

Everything becomes surreal. I swing a kick at her chest, which she somehow saw coming. She grips my foot, twists it the wrong way, sending a surge of pain through myself and a gruesome crack through the air. I pull that foot out of her grasp, now using my hands to wear her down.

She then proceeds to punch me right in the face, and runs away.

I stagger backwards, struggling to keep my balance. Finally, my bottom hits the hard rocks below me and pain courses through me.

_Way to make yourself look fabulous on national television, Drew_, I think while I sit for a moment.

I wait for a few minutes until I'm sure the girl is gone – another collision with her could be bad right now – before I attempt to use my two hands and one foot to get myself to standing position. It's not as easy as you would think.

Especially when your head is spinning from a hit to the face.

I stumble down the mountain, using the huge rocks as support. I manage to get to the point where my head isn't as bad – I think – and I can see the grass way down in the valley within the hour. It's good progress for an injured person.

My legs burn with pain and I can hardly breathe. I force myself to keep going, though. I'm not risking _another_ night on this mountain.

The sun is right above me when I reach the valley. I'm dying for something to drink – literally, so I trudge into a forest. There isn't a better spot to start, so why not? Maybe I'll find Troy.

_Unless he's trying to kill me_.

I flinch at the thought.

_No. Troy and I are good friends. And good friends don't do that to each other, Hunger Games or not_, I remind myself.

Somehow, that doesn't really reassure me.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

I watch in horror as Drew attacks the girl who tried to crush her with a boulder.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

If someone walks away from killing you, or – even better – is tricked into thinking you're dead, you don't go after them! You go hide, find food, and be grateful that you are clever enough to deceive their small brains.

If Drew ever comes back, we are having a serious talk about that.

The key word is _if_.

"What is she doing?" Finnick says to me as Drew attempts to kick her opponent.

"I don't-" I start before I see her opponent injure Drew's foot. I let out a little yelp. The volume increases when the opponent lands a hit to Drew's face.

I stand up almost immediately, knowing I need to do something. I try to hold my composure as I briskly exit the room. Finnick follows me.

"Time to contact the sponsors?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

oOo

Hours later, I'm practically begging someone to sponsor Drew.

"If she wins, I'll make sure that every person in this city knows that you were a part of that. She's strong, she's clever, and she knows what she is doing. She just needs the tools," I say. "Please, help her!"

She woman across from me purses her lips, thinking on my offer. I nervously turn to Finnick who stands behind me. I've promised her money, fame, and a personal meeting with Drew. What more could she want?

"I want one more thing," she finally says.

_Of _course_ you do_, I think.

"Anything," I say.

She sits up a little straighter. "I want an opportunity to have Finnick Odair to myself."

I start sweating. "What?" I shakily ask.

"It's not very often someone gets to buy a specimen like him. I want Finnick Odair." Her gaze trails over to Finnick, who I won't even look at.

Is this what he meant by President Snow selling him to people? He is forced to have affairs with people just to protect his loved ones?

"I'll do it," he pipes up from behind me. I freeze.

The woman smiles. "It's a deal." She slides a large check with several zeros across the table and happily skips out of the room faster than I can process what just happened.

"Why?" I say, at loss for any other words.

"It happens all the time," Finnick says, patting me on the back and picking up the check to examine it. "Now, that's some _real_ money!"

"Why?" I ask again, pressing more urgency into the small word.

"So someone who has all the capabilities of winning can actually do so and not be another person to lose their life," he says, looking straight at me.

"This isn't fair," I say, suddenly panicked. "Do they do this to every victor? Will I become a victim of all this?"

"Stop," Finnick says, a little bit of edge in his tone. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

I nod, feeling a little nauseous.

We can stop talking about it all we want.

That doesn't guarantee that I won't think about it, though.


	21. Chapter 21

**Drew's POV**

Every little sound from the forest makes me flinch. I can barely walk, let alone think. I'm dehydrated and the heat seems to be pressing down on me, making me especially sweaty.

Maybe the Capitol keeps the Hunger Games going only to torture us in the process of our death, and not just to kill us.

I keep going through the endless grass and trees with no sense of time or place. All I can think of is water. I can survive without food, sure, but water? Not a chance.

I take a look at the sky, shielding my eyes from the bright sun while trying to tell what time it is. The sun seems to be up in the middle of the sky.

This day is only _half_ over?

After a few minutes, I start to hear the trickling of water. It then grows to splashing and then roaring. I speed up the pace – but only as much as my foot will allow me to go when it's injured.

I've been thinking about the injury a lot through the journey. How will I survive if I have to lug a useless foot around? What about combat? I'm an easy target, and I'll even admit it.

The water comes into sight, and I try to push myself to go faster, which causes a lot of pain in my foot. I sink to my knees at the river bank and take a long drink of water. It tastes cold and pure, so I don't hesitate to stop.

_Sweet, sweet relief_.

I stand up and observe my surroundings. Trees are everywhere, which practically conceals me from the view of anyone in the valley. The mountains are visible, but I can't see any paths from my spot. Hopefully no one up there can see me.

_It won't hurt to settle here, right?_ I think to myself.

And, with that, I sit down and eventually fall asleep.

oOo

I wake up to the sound of nothing.

Complete silence surrounds me, and, I'll admit, it's _pretty_ freaky.

I sit up and look around. Nothing looks different. Little sounds creep into my ears that seem to have left when I fell asleep – the river moving, the swaying of leaves in the wind.

I stand up, feeling a little less pain than before in my leg. I start to get goose bumps from anticipating nothing. I feel like something sound happen.

It doesn't.

I walk around a little bit, trying to wake myself up a bit more than I already am. I pace up and down the river, occasionally stopping to take a drink or look around some more.

Suddenly, someone bursts through the trees, almost silent and unnoticeable until they rammed into me and knocked me to the ground.

It's Troy.

His hair is messed up and his face has several scratches on it. Blood is stained on his shirt and his hands are raw.

He doesn't speak but looks at me with wild eyes. I start to panic. _What is going on?_

Instead of explaining, Troy literally just picks me up and starts running down the river.

I'm dazed for a moment. "What is going on?" I shout.

Troy makes a _shhh_ noise, dodging past trees and managing not to fall in the river.

"Tell me!" I exclaim.

He takes a quick look behind him. "Kitanna," he murmurs.

A wave of fear hits me. I get a little image of her killing Chad in my brain and I squeeze my eyes closed, as if that would protect me from her.

_This will all be over soon, _I tell myself. _It's okay. If she hurts you, you won't be able to be hurt any more._

I actually believe myself, too.

oOo

**Scarlett's POV**

I'm alone for the next few days.

Finnick is off doing whatever the people who rent him want him to do – I personally don't like to think about it – and, obviously, Wiress and Beetee aren't here. Really, there's nothing for me to do but sit back and watch Owen and Drew in the arena.

Owen is brilliant. He's been tampering with the detonator I sent him, and he's really close to figuring out what it – simply put – blows up. Plus, he's made a point of staying somewhere safe. And, by safe, I mean dangerous to get to, but safe afterwards. Same thing, right?

Drew, not so much. She's getting cocky. Too sure of herself. It's really putting my faith in her on the edge. But, you know, I have to keep pushing on.

I sit out on the roof where Finnick and I wrote messages not too long ago. It's a sunny day and several people have decided that they're going to take a break from watching the Hunger Games, so it's noisy. Although the noises are all normal and seemingly pleasant, there is a tension in the air that has been there for days.

I sigh, looking down at the ant-people below me. It's been a tough few days. Finnick's news, Drew's cockiness, my loneliness – I haven't even been able to contact Wiress or Beetee.

I get up from my place on the roof and drag myself back to the safety of my room – looking out at the Capitol just reminds me of my loneliness even more. Within a few minutes, I'm at my door just as someone else knocks on my destination.

Gertrude, my old stylist, looks as intimidating as ever. She has on a light sundress and her jet black hair is tied up into an elaborate knot. Her eyes are rimmed with a void of black which makes her blue eyes piercing and a force to be fearful of.

"Oh, Scarlett!" she says, turning away from my door. "I was just about to look for you!"

"Sorry for not being here," I say. "I was up on the roof."

"I heard about Finnick."

"Oh."

She moves over to me and puts an arm around my shoulder. "That boy can go through a million maidens and not be satisfied. The fact of the matter is that he already has a special-someone."

I recall a fuzzy memory of Finnick telling me about this girl back home who he has sought after for a bit.

"Annie?" I ask.

Gertrude nods. "Annie Cresta. Did you watch that Games? Of course you did – it's required. Anyways, she went made, and Finnick loves her anyways. You don't know how many times he has been bought and sold by the Capitol – but what you should know is that he came back each time still the same Finnick, still with his love for Annie."

"The whole 'buying and selling' thing…does it happen to everyone?" I ask.

"Not always," she says. "If you're a fan favorite and something to look at, then yes."

"So, if Nimiane Odair made it out last year…." I trail off.

Gertrude nods again. "She would undoubtedly have to go through everything her brother does. I mean, even their mother went through it!"

"She did?"

"Oh, yeah. The Odair family had good genes from the start. Born good-looking, die good-looking. It was never confirmed if Meri Odair was one of the people the Capitol used to make money off of, but it's certainly a pretty convincing urban legend."

_I'm safe_, I think. _The Capitol won't come after me._

I don't even know if that's right, but the reassurance makes me feel better.

**Sorry for not getting this chapter out for a while! I have everything in my life going on this week, so I've been pressed for time, yadda yadda….**

**I'm planning on ending this story soon – I have the ending worked out and everything. There will probably be one or two more chapters and then an epilogue. Admit it, you're proud that I actually planned for once!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Drew's POV**

Troy sets me down way downstream from my original position. He immediately pulls a sword out his sheath – when did that get there? – and takes a battle stance.

I see Kitanna running towards us in the distance, and I back up so I'm behind Troy. He's the one with the weapon, not me.

Kitanna looks as murderous as anyone can get. She cut her red hair – which looks much more of a blood-red color than normal – unevenly and short, like she did it with a knife. And then tore out chunks of it because she's an angry homicidal teenage girl.

She doesn't look good.

Kitanna pulls out a knife from her side, squinting as if she was trying to aim. Before I know it, a knife strikes the ground right in front of my feet, and I jump back in surprise. That knife landing in my foot would have been easier on me than the pain caused by my ankle's injury.

Troy looks back at me, giving me a concerned glance before charging towards Kitanna. I just stand where I am, helpless and weak. _Way to go against your nature, Drew_, I think.

Troy's back covers up most of the fight, but I can occasionally catch a glimpse of silver metal and fierce faces. Kitanna looks, once again, murderous. Within moments, streaks of red are running down their arms and faces, and I feel a little sick at the sight.

Kitanna slashes at Troy, and he staggers backwards. Kitanna turns to me, a devious grin trickling onto her face – almost like she's having trouble smiling because she's having a breakdown.

I turn to Troy frantically as she starts to walk towards me. He looks hurt, and is grabbing at his chest.

No. No, no, no, _no_.

I practically peel each of his fingers off of his sword's hilt, trying to hold onto it. I have a feeling that hand-to-hand isn't going to help me now.

Troy looks up at me as I do this. "Owen is helping," he says softly, so Kitanna can't hear him. _What_? I just nod amidst my confusion.

I turn to Kitanna, trying to put on a brave face. Really, though, I'm tired, weak, and aching just to end it.

I don't have a chance.

"You think you can abandon me and not pay because of it?" she growls. "After you and Troy disappeared, Iris and Wiley flew the coop. I got Iris, though – and soon, I'll have you!"

I warily hold up the sword. "Try me," I say, sounding more intimidating than I feel.

Kitanna sneers and comes at me, full force. I close my eyes, ready to take a hit. Kitanna's blade hits my sword instead of my flesh, which means she wants to play old-school, and not like the murderer she is.

I attempt to hold her off for a while, but my arms get tired and eventually I just scrap the sword and go to what my training has taught me. I dodge her blows, occasionally throwing punches and trying my best to kick her with my legs.

She knocks me down to the ground with a kick – my own move, might I add – and holds the knife right over me, threatening to stab me. I hear Troy make a noise of warning towards me, but I ignore it since, hello, I'm probably about to die. But Kitanna takes notice. She becomes distracted and looks away from me, moving the knife so it's facing towards him.

Suddenly, _boom_! The mountain next to us explodes.

Kitanna is knocked down to the ground, but not before throwing the knife with deadly accuracy. Deadly, meaning it hit Troy.

I manage to stagger over out of the explosion zone while holding my ears that probably require surgery now – but Kitanna isn't so lucky. A boulder manages to hit her while she is on the floor, crushing her lungs.

I run – well, limp – far away from the shower of rocks and wreckage, far into a valley. I fall to the ground out of exhaustion and pain to wait out the explosion.

When it's all over, six cannons sound. Immediately, the faces of the dead show up in the sky.

Kitanna, Owen, Wiley, and Troy are up there.

A loud voice engulfs the arena. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present to you, Drew Russell, victor of the 71st annual Hunger Games!"

I should be smiling. I should be _happy_. Instead, I hit my head against the ground, and rub my temples.

I think I'm going to go insane.

**I promise you all an epilogue! It'll most likely come out tomorrow or so, since I'm not doing much. And, you know, I don't feel like crying with this conclusion, so yay!**

**I'm also going to present to you a new idea for another Hunger Games story – not related to Cannons or this story – and I'd like your feedback on it. It wouldn't come out super close to now, but I'll maybe get to it in the next month or so?**

**Thanks for reading! **


	23. Epilogue

**Scarlett's POV**

Finnick and I stand over the concrete slab surrounded with white flowers.

Nimiane Odair, Victim of the 70th Hunger Games.

Finnick starts to shake with tears. He's said that he isn't upset about it anymore, but I guess being gone has brought back the pain.

I hug him, patting his back to let him know I'm there.

Memories of Nim flash into my mid - her sarcastic nature, her brave attitude, her instinctive but somewhat illogical actions. Her resentment of comparisons to her brother. The last time I saw her, which was at the bloodbath.

Next to her grave is her father's.

William Odair, the survivor of emotional trauma and family loss to the Hunger Games.

Behind us, I hear another person crying. I turn to see Ingrid, whom I was previously introduced to, sobbing.

"It's okay," I tell her as I go over to hug her.

She nods her head, but doesn't let up on her cries of sorrow.

I understand them both. Finnick's last two family members are dead and laying in front of him. Ingrid's guardian and best friend are, too.

Three Odairs is just not fair, but three dead is just unlucky.

oOo

**Drew's POV**

When I step off of the train, I immediately hear the cries of excitement from the crowd. Familiar faces are here and there, like Teagan and Calder, who are right up front. They look extremely happy to see me once again.

I smile at the crowd and wave, trying to seem calm. The twinge of pain that has been repeatedly going through my mind for days increases with the noise, but I manage to not scream in pain.

Someone pushes through the crowd and catches my eye. Ollie is still short and gorgeous, but she's obviously been distraught and less-caring about her looks. Behind her is Mom, who looks like she has gone through the same.

Ollie pulls me into a tight hug, so I hug her back. Mom joins in, and I smile.

This is the closest to either of them I've _ever_ felt.

I pull back and look at the two of them. Ollie is crying and Mom has a smile on that looks like it's going to touch her ears.

I guide them away from the crowd, and off towards their house – I say "their" because I'm moving to my awaiting home in Victor's Village. Within minutes, I have them sitting down on the couch, babbling about how much they missed me and how they were worried and that no one would leave them alone. I sit and listen, nodding when it seems right.

_How come they never talked like this when I wasn't a victor? _I think. As they talk on and on about their reactions to the Games, I feel my headache die down from a roar to a little buzz.

My headaches are one of the few problems I've been having ever since I left the arena. I had to get a replacement ankle because I didn't get anything to treat it when it broke; the bones eventually just deteriorated and that's why I was in pain. I've also been having bad nightmares of Kitanna and the explosion. And my ears? Don't get me started on those.

Eventually I convince them that I need to leave so I can meet up with Scarlett to go to my new home. Scarlett is actually in District Four, but they don't need to know that.

I walk down the streets of District Three, waving to those who call out to me. The attention is weird. Before I was just an outcast.

I'm certainly a different person now. No more Drew Russell, outcast. I'm now Drew Russell, victor.


	24. Note

**So, everyone, that's it! That's the story!**

**I'd like to thank everyone who suggested characters and, you know, reads this story because you're all totally awesome!**

**And, I did promise you all the summary to what will eventually be my next Hunger Games story, so here it is!**

_The victors voted on it, and not even the death of Coin could stop it. Now Dahlia Snow is forced into the Games with everything she needs: the looks, the personality, and the skill. But will her family history bring her down?_

**Tell me if you guys would read it. And, once again, thank you for everything!**


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